Fifty Shades of Cruel Intentions
by theantigrey
Summary: In an attempt to exact revenge for her friend whose heart was broken, Ana puts a plan in place to bring a gorgeous billionaire CEO to his knees. However, Ana may just get more than she bargained for when she invites Christian Grey into her bed.
1. Chapter 1

**Ana POV:**

"Come on, Ana." Kate whines at me as I dump a bag of chips into the bright red mixing bowl that is usually on the counter filled with fruit, "He probably won't even stay. An hour, maybe two, and then he'll be gone and I can join you and Leila for pillow fights, or practicing making out with each other, or whatever other lesbian fantasies are involved in a sleepover for 23 year olds…"

I glare at her. She's been just as excited about tonight as I have been all week, then one text from her fuck buddy and she's ready to bail. "Kate, we literally never get to see Leila on weekends anymore, and now that she's working, I can't get her on weeknights either. This is it. I'm asking for one god damn night. It's not unreasonable."

"You don't get to see her on weekends because she has a boyfriend who gives her sex. Don't ruin that for her. Don't ruin that for me."

"Elliot is over here like twice a week. You can give up one night, Kate." I say finally, and she lets out a huff of exasperation but she doesn't argue any further. Honestly, I don't understand what has her so stuck on Elliot Grey anyway. Sure, he's hot, from a rich family, and can apparently fuck all night like a wild beast, but he's also a huge asshole. And a whore. Kate's been sleeping with him at least once a week for almost a year now, and try as she may to lock him down, his Instagram is still littered with pictures of him out with other girls with his hands up their skirts or his tongue down their throats. I've literally watched him sit on OUR couch, going through girls on Tinder, swiping right for anyone with their tits hanging out.

Kate walks begrudgingly to the fridge and pulls out a six pack of Diet Coke and then follows me into the living room. As we throw pillows down on the floor and Kate turns on her iPod to play some music, I hear the doorbell and squeal giddily as I run to answer it. I throw open the door and find my very tired looking best friend staring back at me.

"Leila!" I cry, pulling her into a hug. She winces slightly as I squeeze her a little too tight, but when I pull away, she smiles.

"Sorry I'm late. I was at my um… boyfriend's apartment all afternoon and I had to go home to take a shower before I came over."

"I thought you said he had to work today?" I ask, taking her coat and she shrugs as she walks forward and hugs Kate.

"He has some charity thing to go to tonight." She explains. "But he had the afternoon free."

"Charity thing?" Kate asks, intrigued. "So, he's rich?"

"He's… he does all right." She says with a coy smile and Kate's eyes light up.

"All right? Is that why you're wearing the new trench from Burberry's fall line?" She asks, nodding to the jacket in my hands and Leila blushes.

"Why do you assume my boyfriend bought that for me?" She asks. "I have a job… maybe I decided to spoil myself."

"You're a dental hygienist." Kate says, narrowing her eyes. "That's a two thousand dollar coat. There is no way you bought that for yourself."

"We got bonuses last month. I splurged." Leila says. I hang the coat in question on the hook by the door and pull her into the living room with me. I'm ready to pounce on her about this guy she's been seeing for the last few months because her complete radio silence on the subject is bullshit at this point, but she's able to direct the conversation away before I can say anything.

"Speaking of work…" She begins. "My boss was asking about you, Ana. He wanted to know if he could have your number?"

"Aren't dentists like, notoriously depressed?" I ask, sitting down on a pillow and pushing the chips towards her. Leila raises an eyebrow at me, obviously confused, so I continue. "I mean, depression doesn't exactly get my loins burning with excitement."

"Why?" Kate asks, "Maybe he's into the freaky shit."

Leila's cheeks flush and she gives a slightly alarmed look to Kate. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know…" Kate shrugs. "Maybe he'll fuck her in public or ask her to dress up in some pleather outfit and go all dominatrix on him. It's worth finding out. Besides, he's a dentist. At the very least, Ana, you can take solace in knowing that his mouth is clean so when he goes down on you, you won't have to worry about yeast infections."

"Is that a problem you have with Elliot?" I ask, accusatory, but she shakes her head.

"Actually, Elliott doesn't really eat me out." She says, almost forlornly. "I don't know, he's not the most… _giving_ lover I've ever had. But his dick is big, so there's that."

"He doesn't eat pussy?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her. "Sounds like you got a real winner there, Kate."

"Oh please, like you have room to talk." She shoots back at me. "Do we need to talk about that guy you brought home with you last weekend? He was such a creep I seriously considered calling to have the locks changed."

"Yeah, I was really fucked up when I picked that one…" I admit. "But that's why you never drink and bone. But still, if the Kavanagh scale ranks acceptability of men based on the size of their dicks, then he was… actually, just average."

Kate laughs and then turns to Leila. "How about you, babe? Is this boyfriend of yours packing heat?"

Leila chokes a little on the diet coke she's sipping, and I reach over to pat her back as she tries to catch her breath. "What?" She finally manages.

"This guy that you're dating…" Kate presses her. "How big is his dick?"

"Kate!" Leila exclaims, embarrassed, but Kate's ever insistent gaze doesn't waver. Actually, I'm surprised by Leila's reaction. This is the same girl who used to send us snapchats of her new conquests' penises to brag about what she'd caught and brought home with her. The radio silence we've gotten about this new guy she's with is extremely odd...

"Oh, come on Leila." Kate cajoles her. "I am not missing out on a night of hot sex to sit here and talk with you about anything other than this new guy you're seeing. It's been months and it's time for you to spill the beans. So spill, how big is his cock?"

"It's…" She hesitates, clearly not wanting to answer the question, but Kate stares her down, sitting back and patiently waiting for her answer. "It's big." Leila finally concedes. "It's actually… really big."

"Really?" Kate asks interestedly. "Let me see, give me your phone."

"Sorry, Kate. There's nothing there. He's not exactly a picture sharing kind of guy..."

"What?" Kate snaps, "No, way. There's no way you two only see each other on weekends and aren't sending each other nudes all week. So show me."

"I'm not lying to you. He isn't like the guys we dated in college, Kate. He's a grown up and we have an adult relationship. He doesn't send me trashy 2 AM booty call texts, and he doesn't send me pictures of his dick."

"That sounds boring." Kate says, rolling her eyes, and Leila lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, keep his penis all to yourself." I tell her. "But all this weird secrecy about him is getting out of hand. You've been dating for months and we literally know nothing about him. Not even his name! What does he do? Where did you meet? Does he make you swallow? These are important things we need to know, Leila."

"Ana…" Leila says hesitantly. "He's… He's kind of private. Honestly, we're not even really dating. It's just easier to call him my boyfriend than, I mean, I don't know, whatever we're doing. I don't really want to talk about him."

"Holy shit… Is it someone, like, important?" Kate asks excitedly. "You're making this all seem very scandalous."

"I told you, he does well from himself and because of that he has to be a little private." She says evasively.

"So we would know him if you told us?" I ask.

"Yes." She replies and Kate's eyes widen with the promise of juicy gossip.

"How well known is he?" She asks.

"Very." Leila replies, uncomfortably.

"And he's rich…" I throw out there, pulling what little we know together so hopefully Kate, the reporter and relationship detective extraordinaire, will piece something together.

"Oh, my god… is it Bill Gates?" She guesses.

"He's married." Leila says, narrowing her eyes. "No."

Kate turns a look on me that silently asks for help as I know she begins thinking through the list of Seattle elite. Why she's looking at me, I don't know. This is her world. Unless it's the guy who owns the hardware store down the street from my dad in Montesano, I literally have no idea.

"Who's single?" Kate directs at me when I don't respond to her pointed stare.

"I don't know… What about… wait, isn't Elliot's brother super rich? Christian Grey, right? He owns that big internet company or whatever. What about him?"

"Gay." Kate says dismissively and I watch Leila inhale sharply, clearly not pleased with the "guess my boyfriend" game.

"Maybe an athlete?" I suggest and Kate mulls the idea over in her head before shaking her head and looking suspiciously at Leila.

"I don't think it's an athlete. Why wouldn't she want to brag about that? It's gotta be someone weird… Unless it's a weird athlete. Wait, oh my god! Is it like, Russell Wilson? Please tell me all the jesus crap is a lie and he's secretly into some really kinky shit."

"He's not an athlete." Leila says, "And even if you guessed it, I wouldn't tell you, so can we please move onto something else?"

Kate groans. "Well, whoever he is… he makes you less fun."

Leila picks up one of the couch pillows and throws it at Kate who gives her an indignant look as she spills ice water down her cleavage.

"Bitch!" She exclaims, her voice weak and breathy from the cold as she scrambles to her feet and runs to the kitchen for a towel to dry off. Leila and I laugh at her as she practically leaps over the coffee table and once she's out of sight I turn a more serious look on my friend.

"You're okay though, right?" I ask. "I don't have to be worried about this guy?"

"No, Ana." She says. "I'm fine. In fact, don't say anything to Kate but… I think I'm in love with him."

"In love?" I repeat, shocked, and she nods. This is not the Leila Williams I know. This is not the girl who used to change her phone number every three months to keep guys she'd slept with and then never wanted to see again from calling her. This isn't the girl who went through nearly a fifth of vodka to get through her sister's wedding and then called me, drunk, from the bathroom telling me what bullshit it all was. Love has never been something Leila has aspired to, and now here she was, blushing on the floor of my living room over some guy I knew nothing about.

"Okay, if we're not going to talk about Leila's new boyfriend." Kate announces as she comes back from the kitchen. "We're going to have to settle for the next best thing, which is getting shit faced and talking shit about exes."

She sets the bottle of Grey Goose from the freezer on the table and then hands us each a shot glass. I grab a Diet Coke to use as a chaser but as Kate starts pouring shots, Leila shakes her head.

"I can't guys… I really shouldn't get drunk."

"Fuck that." Kate argues. "You're not going anywhere."

"Yeah, but, still…I don't really drink to excess anymore." She says and I grimace at her, surprised by her choice of words. _Drink to excess_? Who says that?

"So, just drink a little less than what you consider excessive." Kate says, pushing the shot glass towards her and Leila stares dubiously at it for a moment and then lets out a defeated sigh and picks up the alcohol. We hold our glasses in the air, toast to seven years of friendship and then throw the icy liquid, that still burns, down.

An hour later, we're all trashed. I think Leila forgot about her not drinking to excess rule somewhere around her third or fourth shot and as she throws back shot number eight, she's a bright red, giggling mess.

"Okay, now that you're sufficiently drunk," Kate says, swaying slightly as she slams her shot glass back on the table. "Tell us about your boyfriend."

"I can't, Kate!" Leila says, smiling broadly, but I can hear her resolve wavering in her voice, and if I can hear it, Kate can hear it, and Kate preys on weakness.

"Just, tell us about the sex." She pushes her and, if it's possible, Leila's cheeks flush brighter.

"It's sooooo good." She says. "Seriously, the best I've ever had. What this man can do with his hands, with his tongue… and I wasn't lying before. He has the biggest dick I've ever been with and he knows _exactly_ what to do with it."

"But does he go down on you, because apparently that's a thing some of the people in this room put up with." I say, taunting Kate, who rolls her eyes.

"Sorry, Kate, but Ana's right. You shouldn't put up with that shit. I'm not exactly in control in my new role, but he still goes down on me. And he's fucking incredible at it."

"In control?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean, _your new role_?"

"I- uh…" Leila stutters, her face going blank, guilty, as though she's realized she's said too much. Both Kate and I stare at her, waiting for her to answer, but she doesn't because her phone begins vibrating furiously on the table. She picks it up and her eyes widen with something close to fear.

"H-hold on." She says weakly, and touches the screen to accept the call and brings her phone to her ear. Kate and I listen intently, holding onto every word.

"Hello." She answers, and then closes her eyes as if she's being yelled at. "Uh… no, I'm-uh, I'm not alone. No. I'm at my friends' house. Anastasia Steele and Katherine Kavanagh. I'm sorry, I didn't think you were available tonight. No, of course not. Yes, I'll be right there. Twenty minutes. I'm sorry."

She hangs up the phone and immediately reaches for her purse and starts dialing again.

"Where are you going?" I demand, reaching out and holding her bag to keep her from getting up.

"I've got to go." She says quickly. "I've got to get over to, uh… my boyfriend's house."

"Uh, I don't think so." Kate argues. "You're in no condition to drive anywhere."

"I"ll get an uber." Leila says but I don't release her.

"Leila, this is girl's night. We've been planning this all week. He's just going to have to deal with that. You can't bail on us."

"I have to, Ana. I'm sorry… Text me later, we'll plan a lunch this week. I promise. I'm sorry, I have to go."

I stare at her, actually shocked as she puts the phone to her ear and hurries away for the front door. When it closes behind her, I turn to look at Kate who is shaking her head in disgust.

"What a fucking bitch." She says. "What kind of girl just bails on her best friends because her boyfriend calls? I'm seriously going to have words with her. That's so rude."

"Should we be worried about the way she was acting when she left? I really don't like that she's being so secretive and the fact that she just got up like that to run off to him because of a twenty second phone call, has me kind of worried. Did you hear her on the phone? She sounded scared."

"What do you think he's like… beating her?" Kate asks.

"I don't know, Kate."

She frowns and some of the anger in her face melts away and is replaced with concern as she considers this. "Well, schedule that lunch with her then. I'll go with you and we can talk to her about it."

"Okay…" I say, sadly. "Do you want watch a movie or something? I got Magic Mike for us tonight."

"Sorry, Ana, but if Leila's gone… I'm calling Elliot." She gets up off the living room floor, taking her phone with her as she disappears towards her bedroom. I sigh and begin picking up the living room, wishing now that I hadn't been drinking so much so I could at least be productive tonight since I now have nothing to do.

I sit on the couch and flip absent mindedly through the TV channels, passing time until I sober up and can hit the job boards once again. I'm not like Kate, who is coasting off her trust fund post graduation, or even Leila, who managed to have a job lined up before she even graduated. I'm stuck in post graduation-no job-student loans impending-don't know what the fuck I'm going to do-hell. I've spent countless hours on the job hunt and the cold hard truth is that my parents were right… English degrees are useless and because I didn't get a teaching certification in college, my job prospects are approximately zero.

I try to push aside the crippling apprehension that has me tied in knots every time I think about it and stare mindlessly at the TV until eventually, Elliot walks through the front door.

"Hey." He says, when he sees me on the couch.

"Hey, Kate's already in her room."

"Great." He says. "You want to join us?"

I roll my eyes. "Oh can I?" I ask, sarcastically and he gives me a salacious kind of grin.

"By all means."

I get up off the couch and stagger towards him, trying to maintain some dignity despite the alcohol still coursing through my system. I stop when I'm standing right in front of him, so close our noses almost touch and he smirks at me as his hand reaches around for my ass.

"Fuck off, Elliot." I say, slapping his hand away and then make my way back down the hall for my room. I close the door behind me, shutting myself away, and when, eventually, I hear Kate screaming down the hall, I turn on some music and get to work searching through job boards.

Per usual, there isn't much here beyond Barista at Starbucks or Receptionist for a bunch of different companies I've never heard of. They pay hardly anything, but honestly, even part-time, minimum wage is better than nothing. I'm lucky that Kate's parents bought this apartment for her and they're letting me live here rent free while my parents are paying for my living expenses… but that can't last forever. Unfortunately, a college degree seems to be hindering me from getting even these low paying jobs. I'm too qualified to work at Starbucks but I don't have the experience needed to get a job in my field.

Essentially, I'm fucked.

I bite the bullet and start applying for everything that's available, taking the time to customize my resume for each posting, until I'm distracted by my phone ringing on the desk next to me. I look down at the screen and see Leila's name and answer it immediately.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask.

"Ana…" She gasps and I can tell just from the way that she says my name that she's crying.

"What happened?" I ask, immediately alert and I listen as she starts sobbing uncontrollably into the phone.

"He left me." She wails. "He kicked me out and he told me he never wants to see me again. He left me, Ana. He's gone. What do I do?"

"Come over here." I tell her and after a few more broken breaths, she agrees. I hang up the phone and stare nervously around the room. Fuck, she just told me a couple hours ago that she was in love with this guy.

I immediately jump into action, running out to the living room and straight to the freezer where I pull out a carton of ice cream and the rest of the vodka. I find tissues, blankets, and a box of cookies, which Kate keeps hidden in the back of the pantry, and then pace impatiently across the living room floor until the doorbell rings.

Leila is a mess when I let her into the apartment. Her hair is stringy, like she was wet or maybe sweating from a strenuous workout, and her face is stark white under the burning red in her tear streaked cheeks.

I lead her over to the couch and hand her a Kleenex, letting her sob into her hands for a moment before I press her for information.

"What happened?"

"I broke the rules." she says quietly and I raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. That was certainly not what I was expecting her to say…

"What do you mean, you broke the rules?" I ask.

"I can't say." She tells me as she takes a deep breath to calm herself and wipes the tears from her eyes.

"Yes you can." I encourage her. "It's okay, Leila. I'm on your side. No matter what."

She shakes her head and then looks back to the hallway, her brow furrowed. "Is Kate with someone?" She asks.

"Yeah, Elliot came over." I tell her and her eyes widen with panic.

"Elliot's here?" She asks, "I can't be here. He can't see me here, he'll tell... I have to go."

"Leila!" I exclaim, reaching out to grab her by the arms and holding her down on the couch. The amount of fear I can hear behind her words is alarming and now I know something is really wrong. I'm not letting her go anywhere.

"He can't see me here, Ana." Leila cries and I grit my teeth, take her by the hand and drag her back to my bedroom with me. She relaxes a little once the door is closed and then sits on my bed and starts crying again.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" I demand. "What did you mean by rules?"

"Ana, I can't talk about it." She says, shaking her head and anger flares inside of me.

"Uh-uh, Leila. That's not how this is going to work. He did something to you right? He's hurt you? That's why you're so scared. He hit you, didn't he?"

She looks up at me, her wide brown eyes swimming with tears and her bottom lip trembling. I can tell she's trying to make a decision, warring with herself over what to say or maybe even whether or not to say anything at all. I cross the room and settle down next to her on the bed, taking her hands in mind and forcing her to make eye contact with me.

"Talk to me." I say gently and she inhales sharply through her nose and then swallows back her tears.

"Can you keep a secret?" She asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can't tell you unless I know I can trust you, Anastasia. I've… I've signed an NDA. I'm not supposed to talk to anyone about anything. I can't tell you unless you can keep everything I say in confidence."

"You signed an NDA? Jesus, who the fuck is this guy?"

"Ana…"

"Fine, I won't tell anyone." I snap. "Who the fuck is he?"

"It's Christian Grey." She says quietly. "He's not gay, he's… Ana, I wasn't his girlfriend. Mr. Grey is a BDSM dominant. I've been his submissive for the last three months."

Images from movies and porn that I've seen on the internet immediately flash across my mind. Black latex, handcuffs, floggers, whips, canes… torture. Bile rises up my throat as I imagine the strikingly handsome man who I've seen on Fox Business News and on the covers of Newsweek and Forbes Magazine holding a whip over my best friend and beating her until she begged him to stop with some weird safe word. I know there isn't a lot that Leila isn't into when it comes to sex, and we've joked about this stuff before… but I never imagined she could really be apart of this scene. And to see her so shaken now, I'm terrified that she isn't, that he's forced this on her with promises of money and expensive gifts. Or at the very least, that he's pushed her too far. Hurt her.

"Did he hurt you?" I ask, my voice shaky. She looks away from me and then slowly, she nods her head.

My entire body is seized with rage, blinding murderous rage, so intense I have to get up off the bed.

"Where is he?" I demand. "You will take me to him right now."

"Ana, I can't. Look, I knew what I was getting into. I should have safe worded but tonight he was so… different. I broke the rules, I'm not supposed to get drunk and he was angry with me. He told me he was going to punish me and I expected that. I knew he would, but I didn't know he would... " Her voice cuts off as her tears start again.

I'm shaking as I stare down at her. She looks so frail sitting there shaking on my bed as she recounts what happened.

"When it was over," She continues, "He fucked me. He told me that if I got off he would punish me again, and so I just laid there, bent over the whipping bench, and took it. I thought when it was over, he would forgive me, that we would spend the rest of the weekend together and we would move on. But when he finished, he told me that my contract was terminated and that he didn't want to see me anymore. He told me to get my things, to get of his apartment, and to never to come back. He told me I'm never allowed to contact him again."

"Leila…" I say, concerned as I sit back on the bed and wrap my arms around her, but as I squeeze her against me she lets out a painful whimper and I release her immediately.

"What's wrong?" I ask and she swallows once more.

"It's just… it's still a little raw." She tells me and I feel my face go blank as I remember what she said to me. He fucked her over a whipping bench. Does that mean he whipped her?

"Turn around." I tell her.

"No, I'm okay…" She argues, but her evasion only stokes the anger boiling inside of me.

"Lelia, I'm not going to ask again. Turn the fuck around."

She hesitates for only a second, tears leaking over the brims of her eyes, but eventually, she slowly turns around and I reach for the hem of her shirt. It must be the shock that keeps me from throwing up, or flying into a blinding rage, or breaking down into tears as I pull her shirt over her back and see the handy work of Mr. Christian Grey. Her skin is covered in angry red welts that stretch all the way across her back. I'm not sure what he used to do this to her, but I can tell by the bruising that has already started that he wasn't holding back when he hit her. He was trying to hurt her.

"We need to put something on this." I say quietly, my voice dead again as I stare at the markings covering my best friend like something out of a horror movie.

"No, I'm fine." Leila says.

"No, you're not." I tell her, because she isn't. I can see the damage, she can't, and honestly, I think she might need medical attention. But she's so freaked out right now, I don't know if I could talk her into letting me take her to the hospital. "Take your shirt off and lay down."

She gets up off the bed to do as I ask and so I head into the kitchen for a bowl of warm, soapy water, ice, a few dish towels and the bottle of Ibuprofen. She winces as I gently wash each of the puckered red lines over her back and behind but when I'm finished, she lets me ice down the wounds and takes the painkillers without protest.

"I love him, Ana." She says quietly, as I run my fingers soothingly through her hair. "I'm not ready to let him go, I don't want to let him go. You have to help me think of a way to get him back."

"Are you crazy?" I ask her. "Leila, I'm thinking about calling the police!"

"No!" She cries. "You can't, you promised. You can't tell anyone."

"He can't get away with this. He doesn't get to hurt you like this and then just turn you away and not face any consequences. I'm not going to let that happen."

"You can't tell anyone." She says. "He can sue me, Ana. He could ruin me. He has… he has pictures of me, and I know he'll use them. Promise me, Ana. Promise me you won't tell anyone."

I stare down at her, the fear is back in her eyes again and I realize in this moment what we're really up against. Christian Grey is one of the most powerful men in Seattle. He has more money than the annual GDP of a small country, and the army of lawyers he has behind him would bury us if we tried to get any kind of legal recourse from this. Leila said she signed a contract, and I'm not sure what that entails, but I know it's an obstacle. An obstacle that Grey will probably be able to exploit in his favor. I don't want him to hurt Leila anymore than he already has and she's right. He could ruin her. Blackball her.

"Okay." I assure her. "I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you, Ana." She replies, laying back down on the bed and sniffling slightly as I move the ice on her back.

"He's not going to get away with this though, Leila. I promise you. Somehow, I'm going to find a way to make him pay for this."


	2. Chapter 2

**Christian POV**

My apartment is empty and completely silent, which normally wouldn't bother me except that at this particular moment, it isn't supposed to be. I've spent the evening parading around an event supposedly aimed at raising money for children with Autism, but was mostly just a misguided attack on necessary and vital vaccinations and a self-congratulatory display of the grotesque amount of wealth in the room. I made the necessary rounds, making inane conversation with different investment bankers, venture capitalists, tech tycoons, and media big wigs, all with their overly enhanced trophy wives, or in a few cases their far too young mistresses, hanging off of them and making inappropriate eyes at me. I even suffered through my mother dragging me around and forcing me to talk with the same socialite girls I've grown up with but who hold no more interest for me now than they did when I was in high school.

I'd only lasted two hours before I called Taylor and asked him to pick me up. Both my mother and Mia gave me disapproving looks when I excused myself from the table and wished them both a good night, but they seemed to be pacified by the obscenely large check I left with them to present to the host at the end of the night.

Truthfully, I think my irritation with the event, which was no different the dozens of other menial social gatherings I'm forced to attend every year, is mostly because it was scheduled for a Saturday night. Usually these things take place on Tuesdays or Wednesdays, slower nights of the week that the bored housewives of Seattle couldn't otherwise fill with extravagant vacations or spa days. To keep face, I've given up one of the few nights I have with my submissive, and my body is punishing me for it. I'm tense, stressed from the toll of the evening, and unsatiated by the one playroom session I'd had this afternoon. But that would soon be remedied. I sent Leila home this afternoon, but she was still on my time.

This, I thought was clearly spelled out in the contract she'd signed three months ago. When I spoke to her that evening though, it turned out, it wasn't clear enough.

Now, I drum my fingers on my Italian marble countertops, looking down at the clock on my phone for what feels like the tenth time. Leila's apartment is exactly seven minutes away from mine, but she wasn't at her apartment. She decided to go out… on my night. To make matters worse, she told me twenty minutes when I called and summoned her back here. It's now been twenty-two.

I hear the high ping of the elevator from the foyer and the low rolling sound of the doors sliding open. Leila hurries forward into the living room, looking around wildly, fearfully, until she sees me standing next to the counter in the kitchen and her eyes immediately fall to the floor.

"You're late." I say harshly, and she replies without looking up at me.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Traffic was heavier than I anticipated and the driver…"

"Driver?" I ask, "Where is your car, Leila?"

"I…I had to leave it at my friends' house, Sir." She explains and even though she isn't looking at me, I can see the flush of guilt coloring the skin just below her hairline.

"Were you drinking this evening, Leila?" I ask her, my voice now deathly quiet and she nods. I feel a rush of heat as I'm filled with the anger of her disobedience and the excitement that comes with the opportunity to punish her. I can see her shaking slightly as she knows what her transgression means, and so I stand there silently for a moment, prolonging her agony before I give her my command.

"Come here." I tell her, reaching over for the pad of paper Gail keeps for making grocery lists and taking my Montblanc out of the inside pocket of my jacket. "You will write the address where you have abandoned the car I gifted you and then you will go upstairs and take a shower. I do not want to smell alcohol on you. When you are finished, you will wait for me in the playroom."

"Yes, Sir." Leila answers. She scurries forward and quickly scribbles the address on the paper and then stands back, waiting for my dismissal.

"You have ten minutes." I tell her. "And you'd better be thorough."

"Yes, Sir."

I nod, a silent gesture for her to leave, and she immediately turns around and heads for the stairs and her bedroom. Once she's out of my sight, I go to Taylor's office and give him the address Leila provided and tell him to bring her car back here. Once he and Ryan have left the security office, I make my way back to my bedroom, pull open the bottom drawer of my dresser, and take out the worn pair of ripped jeans Gail has already laundered and put away from this afternoon.

I take my time, dawdle even, as I take the cufflinks out of my sleeves and place them, one by one in the velvet casing secured to the inside of a drawer in my closet. I strip out of my clothes, piece by piece, taking unnecessary care to lay everything out neatly for Gail to take care of later, and as I do, I imagine Leila kneeling in my playroom, waiting for me. I know she knows what's coming, or at least has an idea. I like the idea of her waiting there, surrounded by all of the implements I have at my disposal, staring down at her knees, and trying to guess what her punishment will be. Building it up in her mind.

I smile to myself as I imagine a shiver of trepidation running up her spine, and then slip my Dom jeans on and make my way upstairs to my playroom.

When I open the door, I'm immediately met with the scent of citrus wood polish, a comforting smell. The lighting in here is muted, casting menacing shadows from the belts, floggers, and cats hanging innocently on the deep red wall. The rack of canes a few feet in front of where Leila kneels on the floor is partially obscured in the darkness, but the rich wood that makes up the long thin rods is still able to gleam in what little light reflects off of it.

This room is beautiful and easily the most expensive in my home. I selected only the finest materials and hand crafted furniture to fill the space. The tools of my trade were specially designed by the finest wood craftsmen in the world and master leather tanners, who usually lend their skill to the owners of the coveted bloodlines of fine Arabian stallions in the Middle East. My playroom is flawless. I've perfected it, crafted it into the ultimate place of power. I never feel more in control that I do in this room, and as I march past my perfect little submissive kneeling and waiting on the floor to select which of these rare, coveted items I will use to punish her, I feel that power course through me.

I can't quite make up my mind as I pace back and forth along the far wall, so I decide to mull over the decision a while longer and buy some time by taking two woven coils of rope and walking back to Leila.

"Stand." I command and she does so immediately. "Hold out your hands."

Knowing what's coming, she holds her hands out in front of her, palms and wrists held firmly together. I carefully wrap the rope, the same color of red as the walls around us, around her wrists, tying the knots tightly but also in a way that can be released quickly should she safe word. I frown slightly as the word crosses my mind… A reminder to keep myself in check. She is mine to do with as I please, only in so far as she'll let me. If I push her too far, she can stop me. To prolong my own pleasure, I must prolong her pain. In order to do that, I must not push too far.

When she's properly secured, I lead her over the dark leather whipping bench. She takes a deep breath and then places each of her knees on the padded risers and then leans carefully over the smooth, leather. I stand back to stare at her, her ass held high into the air, her back flat and elongated. Her skin is pale, flawless, even after the session we had earlier this afternoon. That session had been about pleasure. This session, will not.

I take her arms, stretched out above her head, and as I tie the other end of the rope she's bound with to the legs of the bench in front of her, I decide what I'm going to do. I've used this very bench for various paddling, flogging, caning, even simple spanking, but tonight, I think I shall use it for its intended purpose. I turn around and walk back to the wall, past the cats, past the floggers, past the long line of neatly hung leather belts, and pull a long, black whip from its hook. The tightly wound, braided leather looks almost snake like in the muted light. I pull the uneven surface of the cord through the palm of my hand, feeling it, learning it all over again, before taking it back to the bench to begin wielding it.

"What are your transgressions, Leila?" I ask, standing behind her so that she can't see me, or the whip in my hand.

"I drank alcohol to excess, Sir." She answers, and I smile.

"Actually, that was not the violation I had been thinking of, but I will certainly add it to the list. What else?"

"I-I… I left my car?" She says, but it's a question this time. She's not certain what she's being punished for. Something I must be very clear about.

"That will be added to the list as well." I say bluntly. "You are being punished, Leila, because you have wasted my valuable time. Not only did you choose to leave your apartment without permission on my night, you also arrived at my apartment after the agreed upon time frame once you did leave your friends' house this evening. Do you think I should be kept waiting for you?"

"No, Sir." She says quickly.

"Then, we agree?" I ask. "You deserve to be punished for your transgressions this evening?"

"Yes, Sir. Whatever you deem necessary, Sir."

"Good. Let's begin with your tardiness. I think three lashes for every minute I was kept waiting seems fair. What do you think?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then I will hit you six times. You will count for me."

"Yes, Sir."

I raise the whip high above my head, holding it there for just a moment to savor the anticipation, and then bring it down over her with a hard, sharp, crack. I'm rewarded by her high, resounding gasp of pain.

"One." She whimpers, quietly.

"Louder, Leila. I want to hear you. If I don't, I might lose count."

"Yes, Sir."

I hit her again.

"Two!" She screams, the pain more evident in her voice this time. "Three! Four! Five!"

I pause again before I deliver the final blow. She's shaking, tense as she waits for the final lick of my whip. I wait for her to relax. I don't want her prepared for the pain. I want it to sear its way through her. Eventually, she takes a few deep breaths, the muscles in her ass relax, and I strike again.

"Six!" She yells, her breath hissing between her teeth. As she regulates her breathing, I saunter slowly around the bench, gazing down at her body. Each stroke of my whip has left a clear, defined mark in her skin. I can count all six. Seeing the welts forming stirs the dark desire inside of me, and I feel my cock twitch with anticipation. But I'm not ready for release yet. Oh no, we're only getting started.

"Now, about the drinking…" I begin, my voice drawn out, almost lazy, as I stop behind her, on the other side of the bench this time.

"Sir?" Leila asks, a new note of panic in her voice.

"You were drinking this evening, Leila. Drinking to the point where you could not drive your car. You broke the rules."

"Sir, I-I…" She stutters, and I crack the whip noisily behind her to silence her.

"You don't believe that you deserve to be punished for breaking my rules? Do you believe that my rules are unfair? That you are somehow above them?"

"No, sir…" She replies.

"Then you will be punished for your transgression, Leila. I am going to hit you five more times, and again, you will count for me."

I hear her gasping breath, hitched as if she's holding back tears but she doesn't answer me.

"Do you understand me, Leila? Or do I need to add more lashes?"

"No, Sir. I will count." She says quickly.

"Good girl."

Again, I raise the whip above my head, but do not hesitate this time as I bring it down over her backside. Her scream is louder this time, and it takes her a moment to get ahold of herself enough to count.

"One." She says, only just barely able to keep her voice firm. The second the number leaves her lips, I hit her again. "Two! Three! Four!"

By the fourth swing, her voice begins to break and there are tears rolling down her cheeks. My body is alive. I can feel pleasure nearly equitable to orgasm roiling through me and I embrace it as I raise the whip again and hit her for the last time.

"Five!" She cries. I pace around her once more as she sobs quietly into the leather of the whipping bench, once again, inspecting the visual results of my punishment. It is glorious.

Eventually, Leila falls quiet. I expect she's waiting for me to praise her for taking her punishment so well, for me to reward her even, perhaps with my mouth, but there will be no reward for her tonight.

"Now…" I say, my voice cold as I embrace the feeling of absolute power swelling inside of me. "The car."

"Sir, please!" Leila says, fully panicked now as she realizes her punishment isn't over.

"Please, what, Leila?" I ask and she begins to shake.

"I'm sorry." She begs, "I'm sorry. I won't ever disobey you again. Please!"

"That car was a gift, Leila. One I had given to you for being so obedient. For pleasing me. I had hoped you would cherish and care for it, the way I have attempted to cherish and care for you. But you seem to care very little about the things I have given you."

"I appreciate everything you do for me, Sir. I'm sorry!" She says and I lift the whip above my head again.

"For your carelessness, I will hit you three more times. If you want to safe word, do it now."

I watch her lip quiver, and I can see in her eyes that she's considering it. The impatience boils inside of me as I wait the few long seconds that seem to drag on interminably until she finally answers.

"No, Sir."

"Good girl." I encourage her, and then, as hard as I can, I bring the whip down over her again.

"One!" She screams, the pain evident in the shaky vibrato that seizes her voice. "Two!"

I'm in the moment, lost in the thrill of her complete submission, of her pain and in my enjoyment of it. I give her everything I have in my third and final blow and the scream that rips through her lips is nearly enough to give me release in and of itself. It isn't enough though. And it is that release which I will chase next.

While I give her the time she needs to gather herself, I tenderly coil the whip back together and hang it on the wall once again. Then, I make for the chest of drawers that house all of my toys and pull open the drawer meant for anal stimulation. We've been working through anal play for weeks and I nearly have her ass trained to the point where she should be able to accommodate me with little to no pain. But tonight isn't about her pleasure, tonight is about my pleasure, and pain is key to that. I may not be able to have her ass yet, but that doesn't mean I can't fill it with something else while I claim every other fuckable hole in her body.

I take the bottle of lube first as I examine the buttplugs at my disposal. I know the one I should use, the one that is a small upgrade from the last I used on her, but there is no challenge in that. Instead, I choose one slightly too big for where she is in her training and then close the door and walk back over to her.

"I am going to put this inside of you." I warn her as I brush the plug over her asshole. "Once I do, I will fuck you, and I will fuck you hard. You will not come, do you understand me? This is about my pleasure, not yours. You will not come for the rest of the night. This is your punishment for displeasing me so entirely."

"Yes, Sir." She says and I pull the plug away from her and coat her with lube, pushing my fingers inside of her ass to prepare her for what is to come. Once she's slick and ready, I coat the plug with lube and begin to slowly push it inside of her.

"Relax." I warn her as I'm met with resistance. I know the size of the plug is slightly painful, but she's only making it worse on herself by tensing up and resisting me. She takes a deep breath and the muscles in her ass relax, and I'm able to push the plug forward again. I twist it slightly, eliciting a moan from her as she becomes accustomed to the intrusion, and once I've inserted the plug past the widest point and I know she's accepted it, I push it the rest of the way forward to fill her entirely. She grunts slightly, but otherwise has no objections. Regret washes over me as I take her easy acceptance to mean that I should have chosen a larger plug.

I reach down and carefully pull each of her knees off the risers so that she's standing on the floor and her pussy is at the appropriate height for me to take her. Using my legs to push hers apart, I open my fly, release my cock from the now too tight confines of my jeans, and thrust inside of her without preamble. She gasps, uncomfortable to be so suddenly, and completely filled, but as I start to move, the gasps turn to moans. The sound sets my teeth on edge as I'm not chasing her pleasure right now. I want to think of her as nothing but an object for me to fuck until I come, and her low, even mewling is ruining the scene. The sadist in me has taken over, and in this moment, the only sounds I want to hear from her are cries of pain.

"Quiet!" I say, sharply, slapping her hard on the ass so that she once again feels the sting of the welts I have left on her skin and the plug inside of her is jolted forward. She subdues her reaction and falls silent. The silence though, is worse than the moaning, and so I start to fuck her harder, slamming into her as though I'm attempting to break through her pelvis. I can feel my cock pushing into her cervix and so I bury myself into her, thrusting deeper and successfully pulling the sweet sound of her pain from her lips.

I continue the rhythm, plunging deep inside of her over and over again until I'm nearly at the brink of release and then I pull away from her, and walk around to the front of the bench. I lean down and untie her wrists, then twist my fingers into her hair and yank her from bench and onto her knees.

"Suck." I command, guiding my cock to her mouth and when she reaches up to wrap her hand around me, I slap her, hard, across the face. "I didn't ask for your hands, I told you to suck my cock. Open your fucking mouth."

She does as commanded, running her tongue over me as she slides my dick in and out of her mouth. She's good at this, but I'm not looking for her to show off, or even for her to please me, right now. As much as I want her submission, I want to dominate her.

"Look up at me, and do not take my cock out of your mouth." I command and she does so without hesitation. "I'm going to fuck your throat. You will not be able to speak, so if you need to safe work, I want you to snap your fingers three times."

She nods.

"Show me."

She lifts her hand and snaps her fingers at me.

"Is this acceptable?" I ask and she nods again. "Good." Again, I entangle my fingers into the roots of her hair, pull her head back down into the proper angle, and then thrust forward. She gags on me once, and then again, but I don't stop. I continue my assault, ravaging her throat until I feel the tightness around my balls that signals I'm about to come.

"Get off my cock." I command, releasing her hair, and she looks up at me with confusion. "Get off my fucking cock, Leila." I tell her again and as she pulls away from me, I grab hold of her hair again, tilt her face up towards me and begin pumping my cock furiously until the dam breaks and I ejaculate onto her face. She grimaces slightly as my come beads into her eyelashes, but I don't care.

When waves of pleasure cease, I pull away and stare down at her, her face coated in my semen, her body covered in my markings, and I wait for the real release to come. The release of the stress, the release of the tension, the release of years of pain that I can't talk my way out of in therapy but can only find reprieve from by beating and fucking little brown haired girls… but it doesn't come. I'm the same now as I was when I walked into this room. There is no solace. No sense of accomplishment.

Leila opens her eyes, trying to blink away my come pooled just inches away from her eye, and as she stares at me, I realize she's waiting. Whether she wants a command or praise, I don't know. I don't care. As I look at her, the perfect culmination of everything I want in a sexual partner, I find myself very unconcerned with her. No, no that's not true. I'm not unconcerned, I'm… annoyed. Irritated. My anger at her has not been subdued and I don't want her in this room right now. I don't want her in my presence. I stare down at her, almost perplexed for a moment, and realize, I've finished with her…

"Mr. Grey." Taylor's deep voice interrupts my thoughts, pulling me out of the memory from my last night in the playroom with my previous submissive, and I look around with confusion. I can see through the dark tinted windows of the backseat of my Audi that we've arrived at the Mile High Club.

"Thank-you, Taylor." I say, shaking away the memory as I climb out of the car. He closes the door behind me and I walk forward into the lobby alone.  
When the elevator doors open, the hostess immediately hurries forward and offers to take my coat, which I decline, before she leads me back into the private dining room I always reserve for these meetings. She opens the door and I find Elena already there, waiting for me. She has a bottle of the '05 Cristal in front of her, which she undoubtedly expects me to pay for, as she glances over the menu.

"Can I get anything for you, Mr. Grey?" The hostess asks.

"Bombay and Lime" I tell her and she nods as she disappears and closes the door behind her. Elena looks up at me, smiling radiantly as I take a seat at the table next to her.

"You look well, Christian." She says.

"As do you, Elena. Do you have what I asked for?"

She gives me a pointed look, wraps her scarlet painted fingers around the champagne flute in front of her, takes a sip, and then smiles at me once more.

"I was thinking we could talk business." She says. "You know the salons-"

"I know about the salons, Elena." I say irritably. "I read the reports. Do you have what I've asked you to bring, or not?"

"Christian, I'm worried." She says. "This is the third submissive this year."

"So?"

"So, I'm wondering if perhaps, maybe, you're… confused. Maybe you're not really sure what it is that you're looking for in a submissive." She suggests and I feel my body tense with irritation that, unfortunately, I'm unable to release because in that moment, the hostess re-enters the room with my drink.

"I know exactly what I'm looking for Elena." I tell her once we're alone again. "Petite, beautiful, breasts no smaller than a c cup, willing to submit to anal and double penetration, high pain tolerance, brown hair."

"Okay… but I've given you all of those things and these girls never last more than a few months. Christian, the last girl you ran off has left the lifestyle all together. "

"That's her problem." I grumble as I take a drink. Elena purses her lips together but doesn't argue with me any further. Instead, she reaches into her bag and hands me five manila folders. I take them, opening the one on top and examining its contents carefully. Inside, there is a resume of sorts, a brief history of the girl's time in the lifestyle, a picture, and a list of her hard and soft limits.

"I said beautiful, Elena." I say, dismissively as I throw the top file aside. She stiffens slightly, but doesn't say anything as I pick up the second one.  
Girl number two specifically excludes swallowing semen in her list of hard limits, so she's out. I've already seen and passed on girls number three and four before. Girl number five is promising. She's my ideal, physically, thin but with ample breasts, full lips, completely clean shaven, and dark mahogany colored hair that falls in soft waves a few inches past her shoulders. She's been in the lifestyle for several years, notes "Likes intensely" under pain, and includes nothing under her limits that isn't already listed under mine.

I look up and see Elena giving me a smug kind of smile. She knows what she's found for me, and quite frankly, I should be grateful. But I'm not. Despite this seemingly perfect match, I find myself entirely uninterested.

"Pass." I say, sliding the final folder back towards her and Elena looks at me incredulously.

"What do you mean pass?" She asks. "Christian, she's everything you've ever asked me for."

"Exactly." I reply and now Elena is actually unconsciously shaking her head at me in her exasperated state.

"This is what I'm talking about, Christian." She says. "What is going on with you?"

"I don't know!" I snap at her. "I'm bored, Elena. I'm tired of perfect little girls doing everything I ask of them, when I ask, how I ask… There's no challenge in it. There's no excitement in it. I like to beat them but they never give me cause, and so when they do slip up I take it too far and either they run or, worse, they like it, and I realize that I'm not going to get out of them what I want. I don't know, Elena. I'm starting to think it might not be enough anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not getting the same sense of satisfaction out of it. Hitting them, fucking them, having them bend to my every desire, it doesn't give me what I need anymore. Just their pain is not enough, it's not nearly enough."

"Then when do you want?"

I pick up the glass in front of me and slam down the last swallow of gin before turning and looking back at Elena.

"What do you want, Christian?" She asks again.

"I want…more."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ana POV:**

I am worried. Really worried about Leila. It has been a couple of weeks, and she isn't any closer to moving on from her psycho ex-Dom. Things have gotten so bad that she has moved back in with her parents. Now don't get me wrong, Leila's parents are awesome people. When my life was going down the drain, they'd stepped up in a big way, taking me into their home and giving me the stability I needed to finish out high school in one place. Carla was a pretty terrible mother, more concerned about her current love interest than her only child. She'd hopped from state to state, from marriage to marriage my whole adolescence. The longest marriage she ever had was to Ray Steele, the closest thing I ever had to a 'present' father figure. The man who shared his name with me, only to toss me aside like yesterday's trash when Carla wanted out. I shake my head and automatically clasp my necklace in my fist, forcing myself to stop the direction of my thoughts. I hate thinking about Ray Steele.

But things with Leila had taken a really bad turn. My once vibrant, happy, sweet friend is now a shell of herself. I can barely get two words out of her when we speak. She's basically stopped eating, only doing so when forced to by her mom. She's depressed. Like, seriously depressed. Which is crazy, because I've never known her to let a guy affect her anything close to this before. But then again, she says she loves him, and I've never know Leila to be in love before either.

But tonight, tonight we finally managed to drag her out of the house. Tonight she agreed to go out with us. It's the Saturday before Halloween and Kate fought long and hard to get us to go out in costume, but Leila flat out refuses. Which is fine by me. I know if things were left up to Kate, we'd all end up dressed as some slutty version of something stupid anyway.

Kate and I are already at the bar. Leila didn't want us to pick her up. She told me she doesn't plan on drinking and wants to have an out in case she feels overwhelmed and needs to go. I get, given how she's been lately, why she wants things this way, but it still sucks. I have a feeling she won't make it very long. But I'm just happy she's coming at all, honestly.

I've already had a couple shots and and I'm working on a drink. We've been here for a little while, and I'm starting to think Leila won't even show, when I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye.

Oh my God.

"You've got to be fucking with me. Is that Leila?" I hear Kate say next to me, but I'm too shocked to reply.

She looks like shit. Her hair is dirty and greasy, like she hasn't washed it in a few days. She's visibly skinner, pale, and is wearing a worn out sweatshirt and yoga pants. I told her she could dress casual, but I didn't mean like _that_.

I close the distance between us, wrapping her up in a hug as soon as I reach her. "Are you okay?" I ask, pulling away looking at her face to try and find some remaining piece of my friend. She gives me what I think she thinks is a smile, but really is more like a grimace.

"Fine," she says simply, and even the tone of her voice makes her cringe. She's so dull. Lifeless.

"You look like shit, Leila," Kate pipes in, coming in for a hug. I smack her arm and tell her to shut up, but Leila doesn't respond. Not even a 'fuck you'. She's definitely not herself. "You know, you bitches should start appreciating me more. I set up this whole night to try and get Leila out of her funk, and no one appreciates it. I even invited Elliot."

"How exactly is inviting Elliot anything other than purely selfish, Kate? It was supposed to be girls' night anyway, but, of course, you couldn't resist the chance to invite your _dick_ out," I complain.

"I invited Elliot and told him to bring a couple of friends. That's why this wasn't selfish, _Ana_. Elliot has hot friends. Friends with cocks, who will stick them inside of you, and if we're all lucky, force an orgasm or two out of you which will hopefully make you both less pathetic and bitchy."

"You know what, Kate? I'm used to your fucking attitude, and even embrace it on most days, but sometimes you're a real cunt," I spit at her. God, she infuriates me with her holier than thou attitude sometimes. I love her for her straightforwardness. I love her for her often blunt honesty. But there are times and places when it is not appropriate. This is definitely one of the those.

"I have no interest in other guys right now, Ana," Leila says to me, her eyes so deeply sad it almost makes me want to cry.

"I know, babe. We will just ignore whoever comes. I don't want my vagina anywhere near anyone who would be friends with an idiot like Elliot anyway," I joke, actually managing to pull the smallest smile out of her, an uptick of the corners of her lips, really, but it's something. This was a dumb idea, coming out to a bar. I tried to convince Kate to let us hang out at home, but she was having none of it. The bar was actually the compromise, instead of an actual club.

"Come on girls, we're going to do some shots," Kate announces, linking her arms in ours and pulling us toward the bar.

"I don't want to drink," Leila dismisses the shot glass being thrust at her.

"Your weirdo ex who doesn't like you to _drink to excess_ isn't here to tell you what to do, and we're out, so we're drinking."

Suddenly Leila looks furious and slaps the glass out of Kate's hand, spilling the shot on all of us and sending the glass to the floor, where thankfully it does not break. " _I_ don't want to drink Kate. _Me_. I have my own fucking mind, my own fucking feelings and opinions! I am an _actual_ **person** for Christ's sake! I'm not some insignificant nothing for you to order around. You can't fucking tell me what to do. Why doesn't anyone give a fuck what _I_ think?" Leila starts freaking out, and I jump in, knowing this has nothing to do with Kate and everything to do with Christian Grey. This night is a disaster and it's barely even started.

I take Leila's hand, pulling her with me toward the bathrooms. Kate moves to follow, but I shoot her a glare to stop her. If she wasn't being so pushy, Leila wouldn't have exploded like that.

Leila is still fuming, hot tears of anger sliding down her cheeks as I pull her into the bathroom. Thankfully it's empty right now. As soon as we're alone, her anger does a one-eighty and she's in my arms sobbing. I hush her, gently rubbing her back as she soaks my neck and shoulder in her tears. She's shuttering, filled with anguish.

"I hate this, Ana. I'm miserable. My whole life is at a standstill. I did everything for him, gave him everything. I gave him pieces of me I didn't even know I had to give. And he took it all, then just… threw it back in my face and walked away like it was nothing. I know I need to move on, but I don't know how. It's tearing me apart inside every single fucking second of the day and I can't stop it. It's like life is driving past me at one hundred miles an hour and I'm just standing there, frozen, unable to cope."

"Leila," my pained whisper comes out at her words. It kills me to see her this sad. But at the same time, I don't know what to say to her. She deserves better than this. I hate that she's so broken up over someone who hurt her, someone who never deserved her to begin with anyway. Yet, the heart wants what it wants, so there's no point in trying to reason with her. No point in trying to make her see why him breaking their arrangement was the best thing for her. She needs to come to those conclusions herself. And she's just not ready to do that yet. And I won't sit here and say empty things like 'This will get better', or 'It'll be okay.' Because even though it will, those things mean nothing to her in this moment, and they don't help anything. So I do the only thing I can think of, and just hold her while she cries.

After a few minutes, her tears subside. I take some paper towel, get it wet and gently wipe off the streaks running down her cheeks.

I plant a kiss on her cheek, squeezing her shoulders in support. She takes a deep breath, swiping her hair behind her ears. "Let's get back out there and get this night over with," she sighs, obviously still sad, but ready to at least move on from the bathroom.

I nod, leading her to the door and back out to Kate, who is now sitting at a table, looking at her phone, probably texting someone. She looks up and sees us coming, and when we go to sit, she opens her mouth to start in again. I shoot her another glare before she can even get a word out, letting her know this is not the time or place to talk about any of this. She must get the hint because her jaw snaps shut again. She gives me a guilty half-shrug, knowing she fucked up, then goes back to her phone.

We all sit in silence for a few long moments, Kate staring at her phone, Leila staring absently down at the table.

"Well, this is fun," I say sarcastically. Leila doesn't flinch, but Kate looks up, rolling her eyes.

"No, it's not. But it will be. Elliot is on his way. And he's bringing his gay brother, so you two can scope out guys with him," she smirks. I watch Leila's eyes widen in horror at the news that Christian is coming out with Elliot. "I'm going to get more drinks. The _dicks_ will be here in ten," she informs us before getting up and going back to the bar.

"I can't be here, Ana. He can't see me... I can't see him. I won't be able to handle that," she spits out in a whisper as soon as Kate is out of earshot, her voice an almost comically high pitch.

"I know, babe. We'll go, okay? It's no big deal. We'll just leave," I say calmly hoping some of my calm will rub off on her.

"Kate's going to be pissed," she warns.

"Fuck Kate. She obviously doesn't care about us tonight, so why should we care about her? I have no desire to hang around here and watch her suck face with Elliot, or see his asshole brother. So let's just go."

"You're right. Okay." We both stand to leave, but she stops abruptly, causing me to bump into her.

"What?" I ask, seeing the wheels turning in her mind. She looks at me apprehensively.

"I need you to stay," she says quickly.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I need you to stay and do me a favor." I give her a look, urging her to go on. "Talk to him."

"What?" I ask again.

She grabs my hands, gripping them tightly, looking me pleadingly in the eye. "I need you to talk to Mr. Grey. See if you can get a read on him. He's always impassive- when he's in Dominant mode of course, but even during our down time. He's always, always stoic. I could never read emotion in him. Not even when he broke our contract. But you're good at that- reading people. Maybe he'll be more relaxed since he'll be out in public. And you can look for something, anything that might show that maybe he's sad, or… something. Something that shows he's hurting inside too."

"Oh, Lee, I don't think that's a good idea," I say, shaking my head. In fact, it's a fucking terrible idea.

"Please, Ana," she begs. "This is what I need. I need to know one way or the other. If there's something there, some chance for us, then I can maybe try and talk to him. But if there's not, then maybe I can finally start to move on." I hesitate, knowing that this can only end badly. How am I supposed to 'read' someone I don't even know? But… maybe if it will help her take that step and move past this. That would be a good thing right?

I sigh, knowing I will likely regret this. I agree, albeit reluctantly. "Okay, fine."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she gushes, giving me the first genuine smile I've seen all night, then she engulfs me in a hug. When she pulls back, her face is serious again. "Do not forget that you absolutely cannot let on that you know anything about what happened between me and him. I signed that NDA. Those pictures- they can't get out. So you have to be nice to him. For tonight, you know nothing about what he did to me. He's just Elliot's brother Christian."

I wince. "How am I supposed to be nice to him?"

"I don't know, but figure it out. He can't know that you know."

"I know," I assure her. I loathe the idea of being nice to that jerk off, but I know I have to for Leila's sake.

She hugs me again, prolonging it just enough for me to reciprocate and give her a tight squeeze. Hopefully this is going to be the beginning of the end of her pain regarding this whole thing. She turns and ducks out of the bar, slipping out the door just as Kate is coming back with the drinks, cocktails for the girls and beers for the guys.

"Where's Leila?" she asks, looking around.

"Gone. She just said she didn't want to be here anymore, so she left."

"Whatever," Kate dismisses. "She was being a downer anyway."

"You know what, Kate, I hope you never have your heart broken like that. I hope you never have to know what it feels like to have the guy you want, not want you back. It must be nice to be cold-hearted and just fuck your way through life without feelings. It would be a rude awakening for you to have to face feeling unwanted."

For a second, I see something flash in her eyes, but it's gone before I have a chance to analyze it. Then, she ignores my mini-speech in favor of her buzzing phone. "The guys are here," she says, standing and turning toward the door. She waves a hand when I see Elliot's head pop in the doorframe. He waves back and heads our way, a tall, obscenely good looking guy following him. Christian Grey, in the flesh. _Holy shit._.. He's just my type. Hell, he's everyone's type. He's gorgeous. Model gorgeous. If I didn't know he was such a monster, I could be swayed by how beautiful he is. Good thing I know his beauty is only skin deep.

They join us at the table, Elliot giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which I make a show of wiping off before glaring at him. He's a pig too. What was Mama Grey doing that allowed her boys to be raised to be such animals?

Elliot introduces us to his brother, and vice versa. It's all very fake and polite. We nurse our drinks, engaging in some light chit chat, and I'm surprised by how… _pleasant_ Christian seems. Friendly, even. I don't know why it surprises me. I guess from everything I heard from Kate and saw in various magazines, he seemed to always be at best apathetic, but mostly just angry. In all the pictures I've seen of him, he's always appeared with a grimace on his face, never a smile. That, coupled with Leila's encounters with him, I just assumed he'd sit here on his phone, not engaging anyone in conversation, and taking the first opportunity to leave presented to him. Leila said she'd hoped he would be more open out in a social setting, but I hadn't actually expected it to be true.

We stay at the table, mostly listening to Elliot and Kate banter back and forth, until, finally, Kate decides she needs to be dancing and pulls Elliot out onto the floor. I watch the pair immediately meld to each other, and I know it's only a matter of time before they're informing us that they're out the door to go shack up at someone's place.

"So tell me about yourself, Anastasia," Christian says, pulling my attention away from them and placing it on him. He is staring at me intently, like he's really listening to me. Like he's actually interested.

"Not much to tell," I say with a dismissive shrug, grabbing my drink and taking a sip. If he wanted to get to know someone, it should have been Leila. She's at least interesting. All I have to talk about is my student loan debt and my English degree that's collecting dust on my bookshelf.

"I bet that's not true," he says. "Come on, tell me something. Anything."

"Um, okay. I graduated from WSU this past May."

"And what did you major in?"

"English."

"Now we're getting somewhere," he says with a devilish smirk.

"How so?" I ask, clearly confused.

"Well," he says, taking a gulp of his drink, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows, then gives me a pointed look. "You love books, obviously, so you love to read. You're likely an analyzer. You take nothing at face value. You always search deeper. You're creative. Passionate. Maybe a little pretentious, at times. And you're a romantic."

"You sound like a Buzzfeed article," I say with a smirk.

He laughs, and doesn't argue the point. I think he's just trying to incite conversation.

"Well, what about you, Mr. Grey?" I ask, turning the tables. "A businessman. What does that say about you?"

"Well, I never finished college, so take from that what you will."

"You're lying," I say immediately.

"I'm not," he laughs back.

"You've accomplished all that you have without even getting a degree?"

"I have," he nods in agreement. Well, shit. I'm sitting on thousands of dollars in loans with no job and he didn't even graduate and he's a multi-billionaire. Where can I sign up for that life plan? "So why don't you tell me what you can glean about me based off of that information?"

"Well, if I go by what Kate said about you after she interviewed you last spring, you're neurotic, conscientious, and controlling. And kind of a dick. But I'd also guess you're hardworking, intelligent, and motivated."

"I can definitely be all of those things, some more than others, especially when journalists come into my office for interviews I grant as favors for their father, then act all high and mighty and ask me point blank if I'm gay," he says with a raised eyebrow at his mention of Kate's interview with him.

"Yeah, Kate's…" I travel off, not wanting to badmouth my friend, especially not to this asshole. I look over at her, watching her dancing with Elliot, making out, practically humping each other on the dance floor.

"She and Elliot seem to be quite the couple," Christian acknowledges.

"Couple," I scoff.

Christian looks back and me and grins again. "I was trying to be nice."

"Well let's call a spade a spade. I know what Kate is, and I'm sure you know what Elliot is." He nods knowingly.

"And what are you, Anastasia? A romantic, like I deduced earlier? Or are you also a spade?"

"Somewhere in the middle, I think. A club or a diamond." He looks at me quizzically for a moment. "It was a bad joke. Spades. Romantics would be hearts... Diamond and clubs. Suits in cards. It was so dorky, I know," I say, embarrassed, hiding my face in my palms. But I feel his grip on my wrists, pulling my hands from my face. He's looking down on me, laughing. At me or what, I have no clue.

"Don't cover your face. Don't hide from me. I find your dorky humor incredibly endearing. I also find your blush quite beautiful."

"Shut up," I groan, looking up at him, realizing he's released one of my hands, but still has the other gently in his grasp, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles. Slowly I slide my hand away, casually using it to reach for my drink. But Christian doesn't let me get away with it, winking at me before taking a drink of his own.

We fall into comfortable conversation, continuing to talk mostly about school and how I moved here to Seattle with Kate. I try to skirt the issue of my being jobless, but I end up failing when he asks be point blank where I work. He seems nonjudgmental about it though, admitting that finding a job in any field can be a crapshoot right now, but an English degree does make my plight a rougher. I agree, but tell him I'm passionate about books and won't rest until I can get my foot in the door at a publishing firm. He applauds my tenacity and comments how he was right about me being passionate.

I am pulled back to the real world when my phone buzzes, announcing a text message. It's Leila. I straighten up, realizing I'd been caught in our easy conversational flow and had been actually being nice rather than playing nice. I don't how what it is about him that makes me almost forget how much I hate him, But the reminder of Leila definitely reaffirm the reality that is Christian Grey, and I find that I'm almost disgusted with myself for allowing him to sway me with his good looks and charm. This must have been how he got Leila to fall for him so entirely.

"I need to take this," I say, hooking my thumb toward the back, letting him know I'm going somewhere more quiet, and he nods in response.

"I'll order us another round." I shoot him a quick, tight smile and head toward the bathrooms. Once I have enough distance between us, I opened up the text from Leila.

 **So? How is he? -Leila**

 **I don't even know the guy, Leila. How am I supposed to make an accurate guess as to his state of mind? -Ana**

I make a last ditch effort to avoid having to do this. I was hoping to be able to tell her he was as impassive tonight as she'd described him, but he wasn't. And I couldn't lie to her.

 **Ana, come on. Just tell me. -Leila**

Of course she won't let me get away with it. I decide to call her rather than text, so I hit the phone icon on the screen and wait for the call to connect.

"Hey," she breathes into the line, and I can feel her anticipation.

"Hey," I say back.

"So?" she asks, hopefully.

"Leila," I say, my voice low and conciliatory. I hear the intake of breath from her side. She knows it's not going to be good news.

"Just tell me. Be honest," she says, her tone flat. I can picture her in my mind's eye, bracing herself. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what I'm about to tell her. I don't want to do this, but I know I have to. She needs to start moving past this, and Christian clearly doesn't seem broken up about their parting.

"He's been fine, Leila. He's been smiling. Even flirting with... someone." I can't tell her that it's me he called beautiful and endearing; me, who seems to, for whatever reason, have him hanging from every word. That wouldn't help anything, possibly only hurt her further. I wait with bated breath for her reply, but the line is silent. "Leila?" Still nothing. "Leila?"

"I gotta go, Ana," she says mournfully then hangs up before I can say anything else. Fuck. I send her a quick text, telling her I love her and that I'll call her in the morning. Then I shove my phone back in my pocket and rub my hands over my face.

I try and shake of the guilty feeling as I make my way to where Christian is waiting. He smiles as I approach the table, motioning to the seat next to him, and it makes my stomach roll with nausea.

"Did you take care of what you needed to?" he asks, I think out of courtesy. I notice he has four shot glasses in front of him, and fleetingly I wonder if Kate and Elliot are near to take theirs.

I nod as I take the seat to his right, and he hands me one of the shot glasses. With a wink, he clinks his glass to mine, and simultaneously we down on the shots. He takes his without flinching, and I try my best to do the same, but whiskey is not my preferred liquor of choice.

I know he can see it all over my face that I don't like the shot, and he just chuckles with an nonapologetic shrug and pushes the other glass toward me. I know my eyes bug out a little, but he just raises an eyebrow challengingly. I sigh, then grab the glass, which he clicks again with his own, and we down them. This time I don't care about reacting, and I make a very unladylike hiss, pulling air in sharply through my teeth as the alcohol burns down my throat. He leans forward while I'm still trying to recover, his lips barely brushing the outer shell of my ear, his voice vibrating and low as he speaks. "Would you like to dance?"

I feel the shots kick in, and I know I've just passed a threshold I normally try and keep under while drinking out in public. Mr. Don't-Drink-To-Excess doesn't seem to have an issue with it this evening. Then again, I never signed a contract. I'm no submissive. So maybe he sees me differently than he sees women who participate in BDSM with him.

"Sure," I agree, knowing I don't want to sit here at the table and keep getting more and more wasted. That would not turn out well... He holds out his hand in a gentlemanly fashion and I take it, allowing him to help me stand. He leads us out onto the floor, where Elliot and Kate take notice of us. Kate gives me a confused look, and I know that's because she was sure that he is gay. Elliot… I don't know what his look is about, but I ignore it.

The music is fun, much more my style than what they play at the clubs. It's less thumpy, techno-garbage and more just a string of good, popular songs. We're out on the floor for a while, and I am, again, surprised by Christian when I realize right away that he can really dance. He stays mostly behind me, his hand on my waist, never really straying to any area I would consider inappropriate. Every once in awhile I'll feel his fingertips graze my skin where it's exposed through the gap between my top and pants. But it's so subtle I'm not even sure if it's on purpose, or if he even realizes he's doing it. He stays respectful, yet dances with me in a way that, coupled with the alcohol I've consumed, makes me almost forget who he is and why I hate him. I think I'm having a hard time differentiating between what I imagined him to be like, and what he's really like.

Kate and Elliot, Christian and I continue to dance for a while. I'm trying to work the worst of the alcohol out of my system and just enjoy the night. Dancing is nice because it makes the time fly by faster and I don't have to keep finding ways to make smalltalk with the enemy. Instead I just move with his body, which is surprisingly easy given how good he is at using it. We break once for water, which does wonders to edge me back down toward sobriety.

Eventually, Kate and Elliot decide it's time for them to head out. Elliot says he'll drive Kate to our place so I can have Kate's car. Christian apparently has someone named 'Taylor' who will take care of his ride. I am very tempted to take off right now too, but I really don't want to be subjected to the full Kavanaugh/Grey fuck fest that will be happening in my apartment. So, instead, I decide to hang around for a little while in order to give them some privacy to get off before I come home.

The downside so sobering up though, is remembering all of the reasons I hate the gorgeous man sitting across from me and once again having to force idle chit chat with him until my phone rings about twenty minutes after Kate and Elliot leave. I check it, worried at first that maybe something happened to them on their way home. But when I see the caller ID, it says 'Leila', not 'Kate.' I let it ring out, knowing I don't want to have to tell her that I'm still here with Christian while she is at home miserable. But a moment later a text pops up that halts me immediately.

 **Ana, it's Kathy. Please call me back. Something has happened and I need to speak with you urgently.**

Kathy? Why was Leila's mom texting me from her phone at such a late hour? _Something has happened._ Oh my God, what happened? I feel a flood of fear wash over me, sobering me up the rest of the way.

I abandon Christian at the table immediately, completely ignoring his request to dance again, to call her back.

"Ana?"

"Kathy, what's wrong?" I ask, scared of what her answer could be.

"It's Leila, honey," she says, and I can hear the tears in her voice.

"What happened?" I shriek.

"I came into her room to check on her. She'd been sobbing, and when it finally stopped, I wanted to make sure she was okay. I- I found her in her bed. She has been having such a rough time lately, and the doctor had prescribed her some pills to help her sleep…" I feel a twist in my gut. _No no no no no_. She cannot be saying what I think she's saying. "I found the bottle empty next to the bed. She'd taken them all." I hear her cries become muffled as it sounds like the phone has been taken away from her.

"Ana, it's Phil," Leila's dad's normally strong voice sounds so devastated. "We're at the hospital now. They're taking her to pump her stomach. But we noticed you were her last call, about the time she started getting hysterical in her room earlier. We were hoping you could shed some light on what may have caused her to turn to… this."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Williams. I'm… I- I'm going to come out there. I need to be there. I'll talk to you guys when I get there, okay?"

"Yes, sure," he sighed. "Please drive safe, Ana. We couldn't handle any more bad news tonight."

"I will," I promise. "If you get to see her, tell her I- I love her," I choke out before disconnecting the call.

I turned around, frantic, and am surprised to see Christian closing the gap between us. "Are you okay?" he asks, when he sees my face. "You look... panicked."

"I'm- I have to go. A friend of mine has been hurt," I say, yanking Kate's keys from my back pocket.

"Is she okay? Is there anything I can do? My driver can take you-" but I cut him off.

"No!" I practically shout. I want to scream at him that this is all his fucking fault! I want to punch him. My palm is itching, begging me to punish him for hurting my friend so badly she would do something like this. But I resist the urge, knowing that if he found out that 'my friend' was Leila, it would be a disaster. Breathe, Ana. "I mean, thank you, but no thank you. I have Kate's car. I'll be fine. But I need to go. _Now_."

"Right. Of course. Please, drive safely Anastasia," he says, his eyes bleeding his apparent concern.

I give him a tight nod before I sprint toward the door. On my way, I try multiple times to get a hold of Kate, but she's not answering. Which only serves to piss me off, because I know she's still awake and fucking Elliot. I leave her a scathing voicemail, telling her she needs to call me asap because something happened to Leila and she needs to meet at the hospital.

When I arrive at the hospital, I give them Leila's information and follow the directions given to my by the receptionist. I can't even muster a small smile, just a thank you, as I dash off the in the direction of the waiting room. I spot Leila's parents right away, and when Kathy sees me, she stands immediately, holding her arms open wide for me.

I finally break down in tears, muttering an apology over and over and over again. I confirm their suspicions that this is over her 'breakup' and I promise her, swear up and down that when we spoke, I knew she was upset but had no idea she was contemplating anything like this. She hushes me, saying she believes me, and I feel incredibly guilty for letting her comfort me when it should be the other way around. Leila is my friend, but she's her daughter. Daughter trumps friend any day of the week.

We sit down together and wait on edge to hear news from the doctor. Every time someone in a white coat and light blue scrubs steps through the doorway, I hold my breath, preparing myself for the worst. But time after time they announce other names, delivering either relieving or devastating news to various other people waiting in this room with us. After what feels like forever, a woman comes out and says, "Family of Williams."

We all stand, but she comes to us, ushering us to sit again. Kathy and Phil do, but I can't. I can't sit for this.

"We were able to successfully perform a gastric lavage, or stomach pump, on your daughter. You were lucky to have caught this as early as you did. She'll remain here in the hospital for a twenty-four hour observation period to assess for complications as a result from the medication she ingested. But like I said, you caught it early, so we don't anticipate many, if any, long term effects from the drugs themselves. We will also be assessing for affects from the lavage. She might be in some mild pain; it's not a pleasant experience to go through. Her throat could be sore."

"We will also be performing a mandatory psychiatric evaluation on her. Once she has been cleared medically, we will send her to a private psychiatric hospital where she can be fully assessed and given the treatment and support she needs, so we can have the best chances of keeping this from recurring. The mandatory stay is three days for a patient after attempting suicide, but depending on what they discover while she's there, they may want to keep her longer, or you can choose together to extend her stay until you feel comfortable with her state of mind."

"Thank you Doctor," Phil says, his voice filled with emotion. "Can we see her?"

"Yes," she says, her eyes darting between the three of us. "But only two at a time, please. And only for a few minutes."

The doctor leaves and I urge them both to go. I can wait, of course. I assure them I'll be okay by myself in the meantime, and sit back in my seat to wait.

I breathe freely for the first time since I got the text message from Kathy. She's alive, and she's safe, and she'll come out of this unscathed, physically. But I'm still intensely worried about her mentally. The fact that she was depressed enough to do this makes me equal parts sorrowful and furious. The fact that this was over a man. A stupid, selfish, egotistical, heartless man. Christian fucking Grey.

I find myself livid that I let my guard down with him tonight, that I let myself think even for a single second that I could see him as anything other than the monster he is. I'm disgusted that I let him put his hands on me. I don't know what his deal was tonight. I don't know if he is normally like that when he's in regular social settings. I don't know if he is always the way he was with Leila, with his submissives. Does he treat his girlfriends well, and just his submissives like subhumans? Is he using some kind of religious or social stigma as justification for treating women with kinky sexual fetishes in such a deplorable manner? Like when serial killers target prostitutes for being immoral? Is that how he viewed regular women versus ones he used as submissives? I don't know where or how he draws that line. I won't begin to try and understand or dissect the dynamic there. But I do know that he was a pleasant, charming guy to me tonight, while being a heartless asshole to Leila as his sub. It felt like that had to be it. It seemed like the only reasonable explanation to me, given his behavior tonight. If I didn't already know his secret, I never would have guessed it.

If that was his thought process, he really was more disgusting than if he just treated all women like garbage. To pin one group as inferior, when you, yourself, use them in the capacity you seem to be punishing them for? It was despicable.

I sit there, seething, feeling the rage building inside of me and wanting with every fiber of my being to hurt him. To have some kind of justice for Leila. But I have no idea what that would even look like, until… I do. The fact is that he _was_ fully tuned into me and our conversations this evening. He was joking with me, teasing me, and legitimately interested in what I had to say. He called me beautiful, or at least said my blush was...

The wheels start turning, and slowly an idea starts to turn into a plan.

He was into me. What if I could _date_ him, and get him to fall in love with me? And when he does, I can destroy him the way he destroyed her. It would teach him a lesson about treating people the right way, which seemed to be a lesson he sorely needs. And then, because he truly is such a fuck of a person, I can blackmail him with this BDSM shit, the way he threatened to blackmail her. Because, let's face it, I will have him by the balls. Yeah, he thinks he has the upperhand with his NDA's and his photos of her, but he only has those things because he's _that_ scared of the world finding out his secret. I bet he would literally do anything to avoid it getting out. Even opening that vastly over padded wallet of his. I can keep it a secret from Leila for now, until she gets stronger, and once she's in a stable place again and can see him for what he really is, I can let her in on the plan. If she just pretends like she has nothing to lose, that she doesn't care if the photos are leaked or any of the other consequences, he won't have any power over her. He will be at _her_ mercy for once. His reputation, his business, would be ruined if this got out. So she and I will have all the leverage, all the power. And we can use it to bring him to _his_ knees.

Shit.

I left him in an abrupt and kind of rude way earlier. I would have to figure out how to get a hold of him and apologize for that... Maybe through Elliot somehow. He was interested when I wasn't even being flirty; if I turn on the charm, hopefully I can keep him coming back. There's no guarantee this is going to work, but it's the best chance I have at getting close enough to get revenge against someone as untouchable as Christian Grey.

"Ana?" Kathy's voice pulls me from my train of thought.

I stand up, putting a pin in my planning for the moment. For now, I just want to see my best friend and let her know I love her, and that I'm going to do everything I can to see that Christian pays for breaking her: body, mind, heart, and soul.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ana POV**

By the next morning, I'm exhausted and a little shaken up from a night of watching Leila lying her hospital bed. She looked so fragile with all of the different tubes coming out of her arms and wires hooked around her fingers and toes. She was in and out of it all night, but when she was awake, she barely knew who I was. She had no idea what had happened to her or where she was, and she was scared. At one point she tried to rip the IV out of her arm and started fighting with the nurses, so she had to be restrained to the bed. It upset Kathy so much to hear her screaming after that that Phil had to take her home. I didn't want Leila to be left alone, so I stayed the night with her, holding her hand, reassuring her, even after she'd fallen asleep. Phil came back the next morning, alone, and told me to go home and get some sleep, but I didn't want to go. In truth, I was afraid to leave her. It didn't feel safe yet, like I'd leave and something would happen, and I wanted to be there if she got any worse. But after the nurses' reassurances that she was fine, stable, and really, truly going to be okay, I decided I could go.

Driving home from the hospital is difficult as I realize how much the sleepless night is affecting me. I have to turn up the stereo of Kate's car as loud as it will go when I'm stopped at the stop light around the corner from my apartment to keep myself from nodding off and when I do get back to the apartment, climbing the stairs to our floor feels like I'm climbing Everest.

I trudge through the front door and peel my jacket off, too tired to reach down and pick it up when I completely miss the hook and it falls to the floor, and then shamble forward into the living room. I'm single minded in my quest for my bed, but as I walk towards the hallway for my room, Kate and Elliot spot me from the kitchen.

"Hey!" Kate calls, smiling broadly and quickly turning to a shirtless Elliot leaning over the counter next to her. "It's the walk of shame, get your phone! I'm sure everyone on Facebook would love to see this. We could tag her mom!"

I roll my eyes but Elliot doesn't play along, nor does he make his own sarcastic comment. Instead, his eyes narrow and he looks me up and down with a little too much scrutiny, and when he does speak, his tone is clipped and accusatory.

"Did you sleep with Christian last night?" He asks.

"What? No." I reply, confused. Oh, shit… that's right, I was with him when they left. I guess this means Kate didn't get my voicemails, which does make me feel a little better since she never showed up.

"Liar." Kate says. "It's seven thirty in the morning and you're coming home in the same outfit you wore last night. I know that you weren't drunk enough to go home with a random, so unless Ryan Reynolds walked into that bar last night, it pretty much leaves Christian. What's it like having sex with a gay guy anyway? Was it awkward or did he just insist on fucking your ass?" She laughs and I glare at her.

"I wasn't with Christian last night, Kate." I snap. "You wanna know where I was? I was at Northwest, in the ICU. Leila tried to kill herself last night. She almost died and you were too busy fucking Elliot to be there. I called you three times, I left you two different messages, but you were too busy making sure you got off to notice. You're a really great friend, Kate, you know that?"

The smile on her face slowly melts away as she begins to register what I've told her and I feel a small, fleeting sense of vindictive pleasure in watching her shock.

"What happened?" She asks.

"She overdosed on sleeping pills." I tell her. "She was upset when she went home last night and she took the entire bottle."

"Because of that guy?" Kate asks, and I begin to feel the echo of fiery anger begin burning inside of me again at the reminder of Christian's role in Leila's self-destruction. I'm too afraid to speak and let something slip in front of Elliot though, so I don't answer her aloud, I just nod. "You mean, she tried to kill herself because a guy she was dating for three months broke up with her? That's a little dramatic don't you think?"

I stare back at her with disbelief. "Are you serious right now?" I ask her and she shrugs. "Kate, she almost died. Not in an _oh thank god she looked up from her cell phone in time to slam or the breaks_ kind of way, in the _she's being admitted into a psychiatric hospital because she's going to try again_ kind of way."

"They're putting her in a mental hospital?" Kate asks, "So, she's like what? Crazy now? That's ridiculous, this is clearly just an attention thing."

Even Elliot reacts to that one. "Wow, Kate…" He says, looking at her with disgust but she doesn't turn to look at him. She's looking at me and I'm staring back at her, now shaking with anger.

"You're such a selfish bitch, Kate." I say coldly. "Our best friend, the girl who has been there for you through countless breakups, who has gotten out of bed at three o'clock in the morning dozens of times to pick you up from a bar or some random guy's house because you were so drunk you couldn't stand on your own, that girl is in the hospital right now fighting for her life. You should have been there for her, the way she's always been there for you, but you can't stop thinking about yourself for even one goddamn minute, can you?"

I don't wait for her answer, instead, I turn around and storm back up the hallway towards my bedroom. I don't want to fight with her right now. I'm drained, physically and emotionally, and if she's going to act like this, I don't want to waste the energy on her. When I get back to my room, I slam the door behind me and immediately begin peeling my clothes, which still smell like the hospital, off of me, and then crawl into bed.

I can feel moisture building behind my eyelids as my mind drifts back to Leila and what could have happened. What could have happened because of _him_. I haven't given much thought to my plan since I was let in to see Leila, but now that I'm alone, it's all I can think about. Even my need for sleep is pushed aside as the reality of what has happened really begins to sink in and I'm forced to face the fact that I really did just almost lose my best friend. I want revenge so badly I can practically taste it. I'm usually not this kind of person. I don't normally hold grudges, I don't even normally stay mad at people for more than a few minutes at a time, but this… this feels all consuming. Leila is practically my sister and he abused her, he hurt her, and then he broke her.

I want that for him. I want him to feel what she's feeling, I want him to get to the point that she got to last night, and I want to be the one to do it to him. I already know what I'm going to do, I just have to think of how I'm going to do it. I need to make him fall for me, but I'm not really sure how to do that. I've only ever been in love once, with Joshua, my high school boyfriend and the guy I lost my virginity to. We dated for three years, two in high school and then my freshman year of college but while I went off to Vancouver with Kate, he went to UW in Seattle and we drifted apart. He didn't seem that upset when we broke it off, and he hasn't even reached out to see me once since I've moved to Seattle. So clearly, even after three years of dating, I didn't make that much of an impression. And Josh and I had things in common. We grew up in the same small town, we had the same group of friends, we both liked the same books and movies… What do I have in common with Christian Grey?

I try to fight through the fatigue for anything from our conversation from last night that I can cling to and try to bond with him over, but the more I sort through the memories, the more confused I become… Did we talk about him at all? No, I don't think we did. I remember asking him a few questions, but now that I'm replaying the conversation over in my head, he never actually answered any of them. He'd somehow turned it back around on me without me noticing.

I frown. So… he doesn't like to talk about himself. Well, that's good to know, I guess. If I'm going to try and make a relationship work with him, I'm going to have to respect that. Try not to push him. I can do that. It's not like I actually care, so really that's just one less thing I'm going to have to fake. Unfortunately though, everything else I know about him I know from what Leila told me and I'm not actually supposed to know any of that. It's all fairly vague though. I know he's a sexual dominant so… he must like women who are submissive. So, I should let him take the lead, make the decisions, and maybe even let him tell me what to do…

I have to fight the eye roll that just the thought of that elicits from me. Independence has always kind of been my thing, which is the result of having a flaky mom and the vast array of daddy issues that I'm very well aware of. But, if I'm going to do this, I'm going to have to get over that. Okay, so let him be private and let him be in control. I can do that, for a while. In fact, I'm going to _have_ to do that. Not letting him be in control is how he justified doing what he did to Leila…

A cold shiver runs over me as I have the realization that up to this point has somehow eluded me. If I'm going to be in a relationship with him, if I'm going to try and get him to fall in love with me, I'm going to have to have sex with him. Okay, if I'm being honest with myself, it's not like that's that big of a sacrifice. I mean, he is absolutely gorgeous and I felt his rock hard body pressed against mine when we were dancing last night. Leila said the sex she had with him was incredible, the best she'd ever had, until… until he went too far. Until he hurt her. What if he hurts me? What if he wants to do those things to me?

I have to swallow as I realize the answer to those questions is _of course he will_. He had rules and she broke them and he punished her for it. If I let him give me rules, he'll punish me for breaking them too. I don't know if I could take that. I take a deep breath in a slowly exhale as my mind immediately conjures another image of Leila in the hospital and I realize that if I want to do this, and I do, then I'm going to have to. I'm going to have to do whatever he wants me to. I'm just going to need to be perfect, just until I hook him. Then I can flip the switch, bring him down, and then get away and never look back.

I nod with my own resolute and turn over to try and find some sleep. Just as I close my eyes though, there is a knock on my door.

"Go away, Kate! I don't want to talk to you." I snarl at the door, but it isn't Kate who answers.

"It's Elliot. Can I come in?" He asks and I stare at the door with confusion for a moment before curiosity gets the better of me.

"Okay…" I say hesitantly, and he pushes the door open, steps inside and closes it softly behind him.

"Hey." He says, quietly and I hug the comforter tight around me, since I'm only wearing a bra, and sit up.

"Hey." I say back.

"So, how was Leila? Is she going to be okay?"

"Oh, uh… yeah. Yeah, it was scary for a while but it looks like she's going to be fine. We're just worried that she might, you know, do it again."

"I'm sorry, Ana. That's really awful. I know that you're close to her, I can't imagine what you're going through right now." He walks over and sits on the bed next to me. "And, look… I'm sorry that Kate was like that when you got home. I don't know why she does shit like that, I know she cares about you a lot, and Leila. She's just not the best at showing it…"

"You don't have to apologize for her, Elliot." I tell him. "I know how she is. I'm used to it. I know she cares, she just sucks at showing it."

"Is there anything that I can do for you?" he asks, and I bite down on my lip as the thought of what I actually do need from him crosses my mind. Okay, don't blow this, Ana.

"Actually, I had to leave last night fairly suddenly. I didn't get a chance to ask Christian for his number. Do you think you could give it to me?"

His face falls and he looks down at his fingers for a minute, looking as though he's fighting with a decision before turning his gaze back up to me and frowning. "I'm sorry, Ana. I'm not really supposed to give out his number. He's a public figure… you know how it is."

"Oh." I say, immediately crestfallen. "Right. Of course. Makes sense." I nod, but look away from him to try and hide the depth of my disappointment. I don't want Elliot to think I'm some kind of crazy stalker, but without him, I have no idea how I'm going to get in touch with Christian again. Maybe call his company? I doubt that will get me anywhere… Maybe I could get ahold of Leila's phone and see if she still has his number.

"Are you okay?" Elliot asks and my gaze shoots back up towards him a little too sharply. I smile at him sheepishly and nod my head.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired." I assure him.

"Yeah, I can imagine you are." He tells me. He reaches up and brushes a loose strand of hair out of my face and gently tucks it behind the ear, and, as I feel the backs of his fingers graze my neck, I give him a _what are you doing_ kind of look. He has the grace to look embarrassed and he immediately pulls his hand away from me and begins looking around the room. I think he's trying to find something to break the tension, but for the life of me, I can't figure out why he doesn't just leave.

"Is this you?" He asks, nodding to a picture of me on the bedside table. I look over at it and frown. It's a picture of me and my dad, my real dad. The only picture of the two of us together that exists. I'm less than a day old, still in the hospital, and cuddled in his arms while he reads a book with a bright red cover called _The Merry Go Round_ by Carolyn Wells.

"Yeah." I say, sadly. "Yeah, that's my Dad. He was deployed a few days after that picture was taken and he was killed in action. That picture is all I have of him. Well that, and this." I reach up for the necklace hung around my neck, the necklace that I've worn every day for as long as I can remember.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Elliot says, looking slightly guilty and I shake my head.

"Don't worry about it. I've looked for that book that he's reading to me in the picture everywhere but it's out of print so I'd have to buy it from an auction and the cheapest I've been able to find it is like, $300 and that doesn't come easily for someone without a job and a lot of bills to pay." I trail off, but he turns back to look at the picture, studying it carefully for a minute.

"Well, I hope you get to read it again someday." He says, and he gives me a half smile before he gets up off the bed. "I should let you get some sleep. I'll uh… I'll see you later, I guess."

"Yeah." I say with a nod. "Thanks for coming to check on me, Elliot."

"Anytime." he replies and I smile at him as he turns and leaves the room. A long, harsh breath escapes my lips, taking a lot of tension out with it as I collapse back into the pillows and try again to get some sleep. I'm almost successful, just on the cusp of that blissful moment between reality and dreams when I'm jerked awake again by the sound of my phone buzzing loudly on the nightstand next to me. I want to ignore it and I almost do, until I realize it could be about Leila, and I practically dive for it. It's an unknown number calling, which for me, usually means a debt collector, but it's a Seattle number so it could also be the hospital.

"Hello?" I answer hesitantly.

"Anastasia?" The voice answers. "I hope I didn't wake you, this Christian Grey." I freeze. _Holy shit_. How did he get my number?

"Uh, no." I say, my voice a little too high. "I was actually just thinking about you. I was sorry that I had to leave last night so suddenly. I had a great time."

"So did I." He replies, and I note the hint of surprise in his voice. "Actually, that's why I was calling. I'd really like it if you'd let me take you out again, Anastasia. We could go to dinner and maybe see a movie or something."

He's asking me out. _Yes!_ "Absolutely." I agree quickly. "I'd love that."

"Good. Shall we say next Saturday? Eight o'clock?"

"Sounds great. Just text me where you want me to meet you."

"I will, and I'll see you then. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too."

"Good. Good-bye, Anastasia."

"Bye." I hang up the phone and stare down at it unbelieving for a moment. Oh my god, did that really just happen? I feel a wave of excitement as I've effortlessly overcome the first hurdle in my plan. Now comes the hard part. Finding out how I can become his everything, so that I can leave him with nothing. I set my phone back on my nightstand and fall back into my pillow, working through what I'm going to do next until I finally, slowly, drift off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Christian's POV**

I stare out the backseat window of the Audi as Taylor drives through the mostly deserted streets of downtown towards Escala, glaring at the dark windows of shops and offices we pass by. It's past midnight, and quite frankly, I'd thought that when I left the bar tonight, I'd have Anastasia in the backseat with me, my tongue down her throat and my fingers inside of her while Taylor drove us to the closest hotel that met my standards. It's not my usual style, to fuck a woman anywhere but my playroom, but tonight I was willing to make an exception. It's been a few weeks since I disposed of Leila and with my lack of interest in every new sub that Elena has offered me since, I'm more than ready to have a woman for the night.

Besides, Anastasia is beautiful. Exactly my type: thin, dark hair, full tits, great legs that go on forever, tight ass… My breath hisses between my teeth and I shift uncomfortably as I feel my cock harden in the too tight confines behind my zipper when I think of Anastasia's ass in those tight little jeans of hers, pressing it into me while we danced. I was sure by the way she was acting, focusing only on me, pushing her body into mine, allowing herself to drink a little too much, that she wanted it too. I've been imagining all the different ways I wanted to have her all night. I'd even come up with a few clever ways to subtly introduce some pain into the pleasure so that she wouldn't freak out but so that I could still get what I needed out of her to get off.

I even had plans of how I was going to get out of the hotel so I could leave without giving her any of my contact information and I could avoid the whole awkward period of ignoring her afterwards until she eventually gave up and moved on. Now all that planning has gone to waste.

 _Maybe she's in the lifestyle._ I think to myself half-heartedly. That actually isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility. When Elliot told me we'd be meeting Katherine Kavanagh and Anastasia Steele that night, I immediately had a sense of recognition, like I knew her from somewhere. I'd spent the entire night with her, asking her questions to try and figure out where I knew her from, or at least where I could have heard her name, but nothing she's involved in would ever cross her path with mine. She's a nobody.

She is however, exactly the kind of girl I look for when I'm choosing submissives so it is entirely possible she's one of the girls whose file Elena has passed along to me over the years, but who I dismissed because of incompatibility. That seems improbable though. It's happened a few times in the past where Elena brought me a girl who I knew wouldn't work out in the long run but who was beautiful enough that I'd asked to have her brought over for me to fuck once before I moved on to someone more suitable. I definitely wouldn't have passed on Anastasia.

I decide I've probably just heard her name from Elliot, she is his little fuck toy's roommate after all. And, with that thought, I realize that Elliot could get me in touch with her if I asked him to. I could call her, ask her out again, and then let what I'd been planning all night fall into place…

A disgusted sound escapes my lips at that idea. What the fuck am I thinking? I do not chase women, it sends the wrong message. I have them brought to me, picked according to my exact tastes and then delivered to my doorstep like a fucking god. If only it were that easy with Miss Steele. I really would have liked to fuck her tonight. _What a fucking waste._

I feel the tightness in my pants as once again my mind is flooded with the fantasies that I'd been mulling over all night, and I take a deep, irritated breath as I realize that I'm not going to make it through the night without relief, but that that relief is going to have to come all on my own. So, when I get home, I dismiss Taylor for the night and head straight for the utility room to retrieve the key to my playroom. The moment I step through the door and am assaulted by the warm scent of citrus and leather, the lustful fire is ignited inside of me. _God, I've missed this room._

I walk to the couch pushed against the far right wall, pick up the remote that controls everything in the room, and press the button that lowers a flat screen TV from the ceiling. Next, I take a small bottle of lube and a USB drive out of the top drawer of the cabinet next to the cross, and then plug the USB into the port on the side of the TV. Once I'm back on the couch, I sigh, and then begin scrolling through the different videos I've saved throughout the years.

Whitney, Dawn, Jessica, Danielle… ah, Suzannah. A smile creeps up from the corner of my mouth as the highlighted cursor falls over the thumbnail from one of my all time favorite scenes. I hit select and then lean back into the sofa as the clip begins. Her eyes are staring directly into the camera, eyeliner pouring down her bright red cheeks as her eyes tear with the effort of taking my cock in her throat while I fuck her face. I groan as I watch my cock pull out of her mouth only for a second to allow her to breathe, and then my hand reaches under her chin, holding her face in place so I can plunge in again.

"Oh fuck." I breath as I reach down for the buckle on my belt and then ease down the zipper on my jeans. My cock is already hard, straining to break free from my boxers, so I pull it out, and grip it tightly as I pick up the lube.

"That's it baby, look at me." I groan as I begin to stroke my cock. Suzannah whimpers on the screen as she begins to choke on my cock. Her brandy colored eyes stare up into the lense, looking straight at me, and as I move my hand faster, the involuntary memory of Anastasia's deep, blue eyes cross my mind. I wonder briefly if she would cry the way Suzannah did, if her entire body would flush pink with the exertion. I can imagine that her full pink lips would be absolutely beautiful wrapped around me…

I grit my teeth together as I realize I'm fixating on Anastasia again and pick up the remote to skip ahead to the actual fucking, hoping it will distract me. In this scene I have her ankles held apart by a spreader bar, her hands tied behind her back, and her thighs strapped around the legs of my padded sawhorse. I hit play again to watch the long, leather strap of my taws paddle lick against her ass, each swat spaced only far enough apart for me to really enjoy the sound of her scream.

"Yellow!" She she calls and the paddle stops and drops to the floor.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Suzannah." My voice says off screen and then my cock pushes roughly inside of her, eliciting a loud, harsh moan from the girl beneath me that is laden with carnal need. I stroke my cock in time with each of my thrusts, and as I watch Suzannah writhe on the screen, her face turned away from the camera and my hand tangled in her dark brown hair, I realize that this is close to the way Anastasia would look if I was fucking her. Her hair is a little longer but that would just give me better leverage as I wrapped it around my forearm, and pulled her head back while I dove into her again and again. Her ass is also a little more round, fuller, but also tighter than Suzannah's and I begin to wonder what it would look like, pinked from my hand or maybe a paddle. I wonder what her pussy looks like. What it tastes like. How wet I could make her before I fucked her brains out.

I love nothing more than the first time I get to fuck a girl. I'm much bigger than most young women have experienced and so getting to really stretch them out for the first time, feeling how tight they are, hearing their breath hiss between their teeth or their high, bleating cries of pain as I slam into their cervix, there isn't anything better than that. But that was taken from me tonight. I stare intently into the screen, now actively picturing Anastasia as the girl writhing the other end of my cock. I would have never had the chance to bring her into this room, but now that I've been forced to reduce her to only my own twisted fantasies, I'm free to imagine I could do to her whatever I want.

There is a burgeoning sense of tightness growing in my balls as the visual crosses my mind of Miss Steele suspended from my ceiling, her nipples pinched tightly with the most vicious clamps I own, possibly a clothes pin fastened over her clit, and my cock buried deep inside of her, ripping her apart and then maybe moving down to claim her ass. I grip my cock harder, squeezing it tightly with each of the screams of pleasure that escape Susannah's lips on the video and imagine they're coming from Anastasia. I can feel the boiling promise of release building and building and I close my eyes, fixate Anastasia on her knees in front of me in my mind's eye, fucking her mouth so that she gags around me, and when I pull away, her begging for my come. _Oh, here it comes baby..._

"Holy fuck!" I yell as wave after wave of pleasure ejaculates out of me. My breathing is heavy as I come down, half covering the sounds of the video still playing on the screen. I reach for the remote, turn the TV off, and then hit the button that will retract the TV back into the ceiling. My body relaxes into the couch as the lustful need that had me tied up in knots coming home tonight has finally been released, but my mind does not move on from the girl.

The thought that I know her from somewhere won't quit nagging at me as I make my way back to my bedroom to clean up and get ready to go to sleep, so rather than climb into bed, I make my way back to my office. I can see there are a few emails sitting in my inbox but I ignore them for now, deciding I'll come back to them after I get the answers I need. I pull up google, type "Anastasia Steele" into the search bar, and am immediately rewarded with several pages of results. I click on the link to her Facebook page, knowing the amount of personal information people put out there for the world will probably give me everything I need, and my gut clenches when I'm immediately proven right. Not because of her employment history, her education background, or places she's lived, everything I need to know is in her profile picture. Anger begins to boil up inside of me as I stare at the picture of Anastasia, smiling broadly with her arms around Katherine Kavanagh and… _Leila Williams_.

My mind immediately goes back to my last night with Leila, the phone call I made as I paced the floor of my living room.

" _Hello?" She answered._

" _Hello?" I growled back angrily. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to, Leila? Do you think it's acceptable to speak to me so informally?"_

" _Uh… no, I'm-uh, I'm not alone." She stuttered, and the anger immediately spread through me like wildfire over dry timber._

" _You're not alone?" I repeated._

" _No. I'm at my friend's house."_

" _Which friend?" I growled._

" _Anastasia Steele and Katherine Kavanagh."_

I inhale sharply, as my mind begins racing through the worst possible scenarios. Leila had been drinking that night, what had she told her friends about me, about what we do? She's signed an NDA, so if she said anything I can take legal action against her, but I have no such agreement with Anastasia Steele. _Fuck!_

I immediately pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find Leila's number, but when I press the screen to make the call, I'm greeted by her voicemail. My hand twitches involuntarily as I lower the phone. Normally, if a submissive doesn't answer my call, she earns herself a trip over my knee, but Leila isn't my submissive anymore. I rap my knuckles against my desk, knowing that I'm not going to be able to go back to sleep, or even think about anything else until I know what Leila has or has not said, so I decide that I'm going to have to go to her apartment.

I pull up my email again and move the cursor to the envelope icon to send an email to Taylor telling him I'm going to need him to drive me over to Leila's, but before I click on it, my attention is drawn by an email Taylor has already sent me.

 **From: Jason Taylor**

 **Subject: Leila Williams**

 **Date: October 25th 2015 12:57 AM**

 **To: Christian Grey**

 **Sir,**

 **I've been informed that Miss Williams has been admitted into Northwest Hospital this evening. Her condition is still unknown but I'll update you when I have more information.**

 **-T**

I frown as I read the words and the events of the night come together more clearly. Anastasia said she had to leave because a friend of hers had been hurt. Maybe Leila was in a car accident or possibly another Dom fucked up and she had to be rushed to the hospital. Luckily for me, she's been admitted into the same hospital where my mother works so I don't have to wait to find out.

I pull up the browser again and navigate to the Northwest Hospital Employee Portal and use my mother's credentials to log on and find the chart notes for Leila Williams. She's currently in the ICU, her diagnosis is of an overdose from a possible suicide attempt. Good, she's probably on a lot of drugs then. It'll be easier to get what I need out of her.

I push away from my desk with the intent of driving over to the hospital to question her, but I freeze before I've even stood all the way. Anastasia is currently at the hospital with Leila. If she knows any of what I suspect she may know, I need to keep as much distance between myself and Leila as possible, especially when she's in critical condition.

My teeth grit together as I lower myself back into my chair and stare at the chart notes still open on the screen. If only they notated what guests were there and when they left…

Well, she can't stay there forever. I'll go in the morning, but for now, I'm going to have to see what I can find on little Miss Steele that might convince her to keep her mouth shut if she really does know about my more private predilections.

I put away the laptop and pull another out of the bottom drawer of my desk. Once it's booted up, I click on the eight pointed, iron star icon that will take me into the deep web and begin my search. I spend hours combing through everything I can find, background checks, criminal records, school transcripts, Miss Steele is annoyingly clean. The best I can come up with is her financial information, which I suppose I could threaten to leak, but she has a grand total of $83.18 in her bank account and her credit score is shit, so I doubt that will do any good.

More irritating than the lack of any really good blackmail material is the story of rising up against the odds that everything I do find seems to tell. In the past twenty two years she's lived in 8 different states, been enrolled in 15 different schools, her mother has been married to four different men (and the one she gets her name from isn't even her biological father), and she was emancipated legally at the age of 16. And yet, despite all of this, she was valedictorian of her senior class, she graduated Magna Cum Laude with a 4.0 in English Literature, and that's not even all… I've found countless mentions of her philanthropic work through backdated issues of _The Daily Evergreen_ (the WSU student paper), as well as mentions of her in the _Seattle Times_ and _The Post._ She's fed and clothed the homeless, she's coordinated several adopt-a-thons through the Humane Society, she's spearheaded book drives to provide elementary schools in low income, inner city areas with children's books… Hell, she even went to Haiti for the entire summer after her senior year of high school with Habitat for Humanity to help rebuild after that earthquake in 2010.

She's fucking perfect, and it sets my teeth on edge.

I've had my own difficult past, but my rise to the top was entirely selfish. I became a man to be revered. A man so powerful that I no longer have any reason to fear anyone or anything. Of course my therapist likes to paint a different picture. I've grown tired of his insistence that I use my company, my wealth, my status, and even my proclivity for BDSM to hide a fear of intimacy. That's all bullshit of course. I don't fear intimacy, I just don't want it. What I want is to whip and fuck little brown haired girls, and to get off on their submission, and their pain.

I save any information I find helpful about Anastasia Steele to my computer, including some information about people that are connected to her. If I find out from Leila that Miss Steele does know what I think she knows, I'll dig a little deeper. I'd seen some interesting leads on Raymond Steele that could be useful and there was definitely a criminal record for Steven Morton, another ex-step father.

It's just after six o'clock in the morning by the time I put my laptop back in the bottom drawer. My head is heavy with exhaustion from the sleepless night, but I can't afford to waste the morning. I need to get down to the hospital.

I groan as I get out of my office chair and shamble off to the kitchen for coffee. Thankfully, it's not rare for me to be up at this hour, so when I get there, I find Mrs. Jones in the kitchen with a hot pot of coffee waiting for me.

"Can I make you some breakfast, Sir?" She asks, as she passed me the mug.

"Yes, please." I tell her.

While I devour the omelette she sets in front of me a few minutes later, I send Taylor a text to let him know that we'll be going down to Northwest Hospital first thing this morning. Once I'm finished with breakfast, I take a quick shower, and then stare longingly down at my bed as I get dressed.

Anastasia is still at the hospital when I arrive, so I take a seat in the waiting room with Taylor, holding up a newspaper in front of me as I watch the doors to the ICU. We're there for about fifteen minutes when a man I vaguely remember from Leila's background check comes through the doors, his arm over Anastasia's shoulder. He turns her so that she's looking at him, says something to her, and then she wraps her arms around his waist. Clearly, Anastasia is more than just a friend from school. She's close to Leila's family too, which is not a good sign for me.

"You have what you need?" I say in a quiet, casual voice to Taylor as I watch Anastasia drag herself out the entrance to the hospital.

"Yes, sir." He replies. I nod and we get out of our seats and walk into the ICU. I have Leila's room number from the chart notes I read this morning, and luckily, the room is in a place where I can wait around the corner and out of sight while Taylor gets rid of Leila's father.

"Mr. Williams?" Taylor asks, as he knocks on the door. "Good morning, my name is Peter Spencer, I'm a social worker and I'm here to talk to you about your daughter's case and help you make a plan for when she's discharged."

"Of course." The voice I assume belongs to Leila's father responds. "Can we find somewhere private. If she wakes up, I don't want her to hear us talking about her."

"Absolutely, come with me."

I listen for the sound of footsteps growing fainter as Taylor leads him down the hallway opposite from me and then quickly duck around the corner and into Leila's room. It's very dimly lit inside, and the faint buzzing of machines and beeping from monitors fills the otherwise silent space around me. Leila is asleep, looking extremely pale and a little dirty. Usually I'm very strict on the hygiene and grooming regimens I put my submissives through but something about the visual of her lying in the hospital bed mixed with the sterile, almost chemical smells of the hospital stirs something inside of me. I take a deep breath and try to shut that down.

 _Get your fucking Oedipus complexes under control you sick fuck,_ I think darkly to myself.

I close the door behind me, not trying to be quiet about it, and when the door slams against the jam, Leila starts awake and looks around the room with confusion until her eyes land on me.

"M-Mr. Grey?" She asks, narrowing her eyes as if she's not sure it's me.

"Hello, Leila." I reply flatly. Her eyes widen as her hands shoot up to her mouth, and I think I see tears beginning to well above the brim of her bottom lid.

"Oh, Mr. Grey!" She cries. "I knew you'd come. I knew if you found out what happened to me, you'd come to see me. You're here!"

"Is that why you did this, Leila?" I ask, stalking towards her bed. "To get my attention?"

"No." She shakes her head. "No, I didn't think my mom would find me until this morning. I couldn't live like this anymore. I don't want to live without you."

"Is that so?" I reply, disinterestedly. I reach down and run my index finger up her thigh and under her hospital gown, pulling it up so that she's revealed to me. She's not wearing any panties and I let out a small, satisfied laugh. This is going to be easy.

She's looking up at me, her wide bourbon colored eyes hesitant and nervous. It's the way all of my submissives look at me when they're not sure what's going to come for them, and it ignites the lust inside of me. I brush my index finger against her clitoris and feel her clench with anticipation.

"I want to talk to you about Anastasia Steele, Miss Williams." I tell her, keeping my voice low.

"Ana?" Leila replies, and there is a satisfying quiver in her voice as she relaxes beneath by touch. It doesn't take long before she's wet and my fingers are coated with her arousal, so I thrust my first and second finger inside of her, making her cry out.

"What have you told her, Leila?" I demand.

"W-what?" She gasps and I push my fingers forward again.

"Your friend Anastasia, Leila. What did you tell her about our relationship? What have you told her about me?"

"I didn't tell her anything." She says quickly, and then she exhales sharply as my fingers pump in and out of her. I twist them, brushing them against her g-spot so that her thighs begin to quiver.

"I want to believe that, Leila." I spit at her, the accusation clear in my tone.

"I didn't. I wouldn't say anything to anyone." She moans. "I'm obedient, Master."

"Are you? Because I think your inability to follow my rules is the reason your contract was terminated."

"I'm sorry." She whines. "I broke the rules, I made a mistake… but I would never tell anyone about you or what we do together. Your trust means everything to me, Sir. I never want to disappoint you. I would never tell a soul."

"Not even your best friend?"

"No, Sir. Anastasia is not like us. She wouldn't understand. She's good, innocent. She's too pure to be interested in any of the kinds of things we like to do and she would judge me, ostracize me. I would never tell her."

I grit my teeth together, pondering this as my fingers continue their assault on Leila, driving her to the edge of incoherency so that I can find a hole in her story. Her lips quiver as she begins to build to the brink of orgasm and I stare intently into her eyes, looking for a lie.

I suppose her explanation makes sense, I'd just learned all about how perfect and pure little Miss Steele was. She seems to be exactly the kind of person that makes what I do in my Red Room so taboo in the first place. Pretentious fucking bitch.

"Why does your friend think you're in here, Leila?" I ask, as I feel her begin to tighten around my fingers.

"Sh-sh-she thinks th-that I-I…" Leila stutters through her broken, gasping breathing, and so I ease up on her. A small, protesting whimper escapes her lips, but she continues. "She knows I broke up with my… uh, boyfriend. She knows it's been hard for me. But she doesn't know it's you, she doesn't know what we did. I would never tell a soul, Master. I swear. Especially not to someone like Anastasia."

Her mouth falls open and I watch her eyes roll back a little as she reaches the very edge and so I quickly pull my fingers away and yank the hem of her hospital gown back down over her thighs.

"Please, Mr. Grey." Leila begs, but I shake my head and glare at her.

"If I hear that you have said one word about me to anyone, I will make your life such a living hell that you'll wish you had succeeded last night. Do you understand me, Leila?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey." She says.

"Your NDA is still valid even if your other contract has been terminated. Do not forget that."

"No, Mr. Grey."

"Good. Good-bye, Miss Williams." I say and again, her eyes grow wide as I turn to leave the room.

"Wait, Mr. Grey!" She cries, and I stop at the door, roll my eyes, and turn back to face her.

"What?" I spit at her.

"I want my contract back." She says quietly. "I won't disobey you again, I won't ever disappoint you again. I'll be perfect, I promise. I don't want to be without you."

I narrow my eyes, glaring at her with all the contempt I feel listening to her weak, pathetic begging. "I don't want you, Leila. You're nothing to me. If you would have died last night, I wouldn't have cared."

I turn around and walk out of the hospital room. My body is alight, electrified even, by the sounds of Leila's sobs following me down the hallway. I can hear the pain in her choking gasps and I know that I've broken her. Hell, she tried to commit suicide over me and the very notion is like sweet nectar feeding the constant ravenous need of the sadist inside of me. I smirk to myself as I walk out of the ICU. I've finally gotten what I needed from her. Leila Williams has finally found a way to satiate me.

Taylor is sitting with Mr. Williams in the waiting room so I nod subtly in his direction and then continue out the main doors to the parking lot. There is a dispenser of hand sanitizer near the front door that I take a pump of and I rub it diligently over my hands to remove all traces of Leila Williams off of me.

When I get to the Audi, I stand only for a minute or so before Taylor joins me and we begin to make our way back to Escala. Again, I spend the car ride home preoccupied with the idea of Miss Steele, though this time it has nothing to do with her ass in a tight pair of jeans. I believe Leila, but I also can't be 100% certain if she's telling the truth or not, and I don't do well with uncertainty. To be safe, I need to get Anastasia to sign an NDA too, but I have no idea how to go about that. All of my submissives sign NDA's before they ever even meet me, but Anastasia isn't a submissive. I'd have to get her alone to be able to try and convince her to sign and the only way I can think to do that is to call her and ask her out. But even then, convincing her to sign over drinks or maybe dinner seems unlikely. I've never been on a regular kind of date with a woman, but even I know enough that they don't begin with non-disclosure agreements.

Perhaps I'm going about this the wrong way. Usually, sex is my most powerful weapon to use against a woman but Anastasia wouldn't be interested in what I would want to offer her. So, maybe, what I have to offer needs to change. I could ask her on a date, build a relationship with her, hell maybe I could even fuck her the vanilla way, just once, if only just to experience something new. It'll help me gauge what she knows and doesn't know and then once I have her trust, I'll give her the NDA. I can make something up, tell her that I can't take our relationship any further without protecting my company and my public image, and when she signs, I'll get rid of her.

The plan sounds tedious and time consuming, and those are both concepts I generally abhor, but I don't know what other choice I have. I'm vulnerable right now and I need to take back control. Unfortunately, spending hours reading about what a patron saint Anastasia is, and then having her best friend confirm it for me over and over again, doesn't make the idea of pursuing a relationship with this girl very appealing to me. I try to imagine fucking her again, the way I did last night, but I have to move the fantasies into a bed, rather than the Saint Andrew's Cross in my playroom, and the visual does absolutely nothing for me. In fact, only seconds after my little fantasy starts, it morphs into the same visual I had last night, her suspended from my playroom ceiling while I relentlessly pound into her and she screams for me again and again. _That_ visual stirs my cock to attention, and suddenly, an idea begins to form in my mind.

What if I could make that a possibility? What if I could take a perfect innocent, one who had probably never heard of half of the things I keep in my playroom, and I could transform her into a perfect little submissive? I have to hold back a groan as I begin to think of all the opportunities I'd have to punish her while I was training her, and she wouldn't even know what to expect. No hard limits, perfect carte blanche.

The more I play the different scenarios over and over in my mind, the darker my plan becomes. If I do this, Anastasia is going to expect a relationship. What we have won't start as contractual, I'll have to ease her into that, slowly introduce what I like over time. But the relationship part adds a whole new realm of possibility for pain.

I think back to the feeling I had leaving Leila's hospital room, how glorious it was to revel in not only the physical pain but the deep, emotional pain that resonated inside of me the way nothing ever has before. I want that again, but better this time. Planned out and methodical so that when the pain does come, I'll get to savor every moment of it knowing that every ounce of that pain belongs to me. I'm going to make Anastasia fall in love with me. I'm going to consume her, wrap her entire world up in me, give her the fantasy that every little girl watching a Disney Princess movie fantasizes about, and then I'm going to use that to slowly change her into a submissive for me to use the way I please. And once I'm finished with her, I'll tell her just how little she actually means to me and dump her out onto the street.

I'm practically panting with the anticipation the idea holds. _This_ is what I've been needing, _this_ is what I've been searching for. _This_ is my more.

The first thing I do when I get back to Escala is head for my office and pull the laptop out of my bottom drawer again to bring up the information I saved on Anastasia this morning. I search through the information until I find her phone number and then quickly begin to dial, struggling to maintain any fucking sense of dignity through my excitement as I hold the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" Anastasia's hesitant voice answers and I smile.

"Anastasia? I hope I didn't wake you, this is Christian Grey."


	6. Chapter 6

"Kill me," I whisper to no one as I once again start at the beginning of my closet, sliding hanger by hanger through everything I own, trying to find something appropriate to wear on a date with Christian Grey. He told me he's taking me to Canlis. _Canlis_! I so do not own anything that should be seen within the walls of a place that upscale. I have clothes. Cute clothes. But nothing of that caliber. Everything I own looks childish by comparison. My closet is full of jeans and t-shirts, or flashy club outfits. I feel painfully twenty-three looking at this stuff. Why have I never bought something classy? As I come to the end of my closet once again, I let out a frustrated scream from the back of my throat, throwing myself backward onto my bed.

"Need some help?" I prop myself up on my elbows and find Kate standing in my doorway, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"Yeah, actually," I say, eagerly sitting up. Kate does high end dining all the time with her family. She should have something I can borrow. I haven't wanted to be around her much since the whole Leila thing, but I know she's been really trying to be extra nice over the last couple of days to make up for it. I've been pretty cold to her anyway, because I'm still mad, but I really need the help, and I'm not above using her desire to make amends in order to get it at this point. Hell, I already took advantage in order to secure the usage of her car for tonight. "I need something nice enough for Canlis."

" _Canlis_ ," she emphasizes, clearly impressed. "Nice." She stands up straight, turning away from my door. "Come," she says, waving me with her, and I pop off the bed to follow.

When we get in her room, Elliot is sprawled out on her bed, one arm behind his head while he holds his phone above his face. His eyes flick to the door, first to Kate, then to me. He drops his phone to the bed and sits up, looking at us curiously.

"Elliot, out," Kate dismissed him as she heads straight to her closet, not even looking at him. He shoots a glare at her back, then turns his gaze on me.

"Hey, Ana."

I smile in greeting, and he watches me as I walk across the room and plop down on the bed next to him. I can still feel his eyes on me, so I turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. Finally he looks away. I roll my eyes and we both watch Kate as she sorts through her over-packed closet, muttering to herself the whole time as she makes cases for and against various outfits. Then she lets out a hissed, "Yessss," as she yanks a garment bag out and holds it up triumphantly. She puts it on the hook on the outside of the closet door and kneels down, rooting around the million boxes of shoes she has lining the whole bottom of her closet floor. I still can't see the dress because it's zipped up in the bag, so I wait patiently until she pulls a shoe box out and sets it aside.

She finally turns around, glances at me, and then her eyes shoot to Elliot. "I said out," she tells him slowly, like he's a child.

"Why?" he snaps back.

"I'm trying to get Ana ready for her date. I'm about to tell her to take off her clothes. So, therefore, you. need. to. get. out." She turns away again, back to the garment bag, and unzips it carefully, pulling it off and revealing the dress. Elliot huffs and stomps out the room like a five year old, but Kate completely ignores his attitude as he slams her bedroom door closed. "Strip," she says over her shoulder. I undress as I examine the dress on the hanger, and it really is perfect for tonight. It's fitted and black, sexy and chic. I half expected her to pull out something slutty, but Kate was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and admittedly knows exactly how to dress for the occasion.

When she turns around, dress in hand, she looks me up and down and frowns. "Don't you have any sexier underwear than that?"

I look down at myself and back up at her. "Who cares? I'm not sleeping with him on the first date."

She rolls her eyes. "So? Just because you're not sleeping with him doesn't mean you should wear just anything. You want to _feel_ confident and sexy. And nothing makes you feel confident and sexy like knowing you're rocking hot underwear underneath your clothes."

"I guess," I sigh.

"Here," she says, shoving the dress in my arms and going to her dresser. "I have something that you can wear, and it won't show under the dress. Plus, it's Agent Provocateur."

"I don't want to wear your panties Kate. I have my own underwear," I say, turning away from her outstretched hand holding out the matching nude and black lace detail bra and underwear.

"They're brand new, Ana. Just take them."

I do, not feeling like hearing her bitch about whatever underwear I would have chosen from my own collection. I have cute panties, but even my best pairs are from Victoria's Secret, not from Agent Provocateur or La Perla like Kate's drawer is filled with.

I slip off my own and put on what she gives me while she goes into the bathroom, probably setting up to do my hair and makeup. Which, thank God, because those are two more things I'm pretty much hopeless at. I do some adjustment with the bra, making sure my boobs look as good as possible. Actually, this bra makes them look very nice. I look at myself in the mirror, turning so I can see myself from every angle. Huh. It's kind of a shame I'm not going to sleep with him tonight, because I look really good in these.

"Yow!" Kate catcalls when she walks back into the room to find me posing in the mirror. "Sexy, Steele." I glare at her. She knows I hate it when she calls me Steele.

She helps me step into the dress, pulling it up and zipping the back for me. It fits like a glove; the cut is flawless but it's not uncomfortable at all, and it hits just the right length to still be classy considering how tight it is. The material is clearly expensive and I love the way it feels. Again I look at the mirror, very pleased with the choice.

Kate ushers me into the bathroom, where we spend the better part of the next hour creating perfect loose curls and painting on a flawless coat of foundation, blush, eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick. She tries to get me to change my necklace to something fancier but I refuse, so we compromise by agreeing I'll wear one of her bracelets and a pair of her earrings. When we're done, she removes the shoes from the box and has me slip them on while she rummages around in her closet once again to find me a clutch.

"Thanks, Kate," I say, fluffing out my hair a bit over my shoulders so it falls evenly on both sides. I lean forward, pressing my lips together before pursing them out, then stand up straight and smooth the dress down, doing a little half turn to look at the back.

"Happy to help," she said, sounding completely sincere. I know she's trying so hard to make up for her shitty behavior when she found out about Leila, but I'm just not ready to really forgive her yet. Still, I do appreciate the help tonight.

I glance at the clock, seeing that I need to leave, like now, if I don't want to be late. I hurry out of Kate's room so I can quickly grab my day-to-day purse and transfer a few other things into the clutch.

When I walk into the living room, Elliot is sprawled out on the couch watching TV. He sits up when I enter the room, just like he did in Kate's room.

"Holy shit, Ana. You look hot," he says, his eyes scanning me up and down.

"Thanks," I say offhandedly, digging into my purse to find anything I might need for the night and tossing it into the clutch. I grab my phone, Kate's keys, and my wallet, plus the tube of lipstick Kate shoved in my hand as I fled her room. That's about all I have room for, but that's all I should need anyway.

"Okay, I'm leaving," I turn and say to them.

"Have fun!" Kate grins, waving as she takes a seat on the couch next to Elliot, who doesn't say anything. Whatever.

By the time I make it through traffic, I'm just pulling up with enough time to spare to get inside. The valet takes the car and I thank him quickly as I rush past him to get inside. I go up to the hostess podium, not knowing if Christian is here yet or not, though I suspect Mr. Controlling is rarely late.

"Welcome to Canlis," the woman greets me pleasantly, showing the millions of bright white teeth in her mouth.

"Hi. My name is Anastasia Steele. I'm supposed to be meeting Christian Grey for dinner," I say.

"Yes, of course, Miss Steele," she says, her smile still completely intact but her eyes losing some of their luster as they frost over a bit. What's that about? "Right this way, Mr. Grey is waiting for you in the private dining room."

 _Private dining room?_ Really?

I feel suddenly nervous, as the realization of what I'm doing washes over me. I'm about to eat in a super fancy restaurant, privately, with Christian Grey, the crazy hot billionaire, and it's all just a ploy to lure him into some half-baked scheme of revenge. I want to do this, I _need_ to do this, but in order to pull it off, I have to be perfect tonight. I have to make a good impression so he wants to see me again. I have to make myself interesting to this man who has… _everything_ , and who does BDSM on the side. Honestly, what can I offer that would interest him? Why would he want me? What was I thinking?

I don't have any more time to panic about it, however, as the hostess leads me to the table where he is sitting in all of his Greek-God-looking glory. He stands immediately when he sees me, his right hand automatically doing the button on his suit jacket. He reaches for my hand, placing a gentle kiss on my knuckles as he greets me. "Good evening, Anastasia. You look beautiful tonight."

I smile politely. "Good evening. And thank you. You look very handsome, yourself." He holds out his hand, directing me to my seat. I sit as he pushes the chair in for me, and I realize I don't think anyone has ever done that for me before. He's obviously a product of upper class breeding. I wonder if he had to take an etiquette course, or if that's just something they do on TV. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says, beaming a quick smile at me before taking his seat, his fingers deftly popping that suit button back out as he folds his tall frame back down into the chair. "I ordered us wine already. I hope it's to your liking. If not, we can order something else."

"I'm sure whatever you chose will be fine. I'm certainly no wine connoisseur," I say. Truthfully I don't know anything about wine. Most of my college years were spent drinking it from a box. Or Boone's Farm if Leila, Kate and I were feeling particularly 'classy'. We've since graduated to Barefoot.

I look down, seeing a single white rose lying across the place setting. I pick it up, bringing it to my nose and smell it. I twist it in my fingers and look up at him. "This was very sweet. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he grins widely, seemingly very pleased with himself. "I ordered us the three course meal. Oysters, to start us off, and halibut for the main course. I hope you enjoy seafood," he says with a frown, almost like an afterthought, like he just now realized I might not like what he chose. I'm surprised and slightly irked that he'd ordered without even consulting me, but since I need to play nice, I decide to let it slide. Plus, I do enjoy seafood, so I suppose it's not _that_ big of a deal.

"Of course. You can't be from Seattle and hate seafood," I say with a light laugh to make the frown go away. And it does.

"Good," he says, taking a sip of his wine. I reach for my glass and do the same, and… _holy shit_. I let out an inaudible moan, or at least I think it is, until I see him smirking at me. "To your liking, I take it?"

"Yes. It's delicious." Suddenly my whole life feels like a lie. Move over Barefoot, there's a new wine in town. "What kind of wine is it?"

"It's a 2007 Edmond Vatan Sancerre Clos de la Neore," he says, like any of those words mean anything to me at all. It sounds expensive. Oh right, he's rich. So this likely _is_ a very expensive wine. Barefoot isn't going anywhere, I guess. I just smile and nod, taking another small sip, making a mental note to stop at two glasses, so there is no way I can be accused of _drinking to excess_.

A moment later the waiter comes around with our oysters. He greets me kindly and we exchange pleasantries since this is the first I've seen of him this evening. He asks us if there's anything we need. Christian is rather terse with him, not exactly impolite, but he also barely acknowledges him except to dismiss him, asking for privacy until the main course is ready to be served.

"So tell me about yourself, Ana. You told me about school when we were at the bar. Tell me about your family."

I'd already decided, that when it inevitably came up, I would keep any kind of family talk light and kind of vague, but still truthful. I don't want to get caught up in any lies if I can somehow manage to extend this beyond tonight. According to Leila he liked to keep his distance from things that were too personal, so it is probably in my best interest to not open up about a past that isn't too pretty, and have him think I'm dumping a bunch of emotional baggage on him. Plus, I don't want to tell him too much anyway, because I certainly don't want Leila to become a topic of conversation. It's not like he's going to ask for a list of names of people from my past, so I'll be fine if I just keep it all vague.

"I have always had a very chaotic family life," I admit. "My mom jumps from relationship to relationship pretty often. She's been remarried again and again. As a result we moved around a lot my whole childhood. The longest we ever stayed anywhere was near Seattle." I pause. That was with Ray. I didn't want to talk about him, not wanting to delve into how I got his name and why I hate him so much. That's too personal of a conversation, too heavy for a first date, even a normal one. And definitely not within the 'vague' guidelines I set for myself tonight. "When we were living here, my mom got divorced and then wanted to move again. I was a teenager and didn't want to start at yet another school. My friend's parents decided to let me stay with them so I didn't have to go. My mom agreed, and that's where I stayed until I went to college."

He watches me for a moment after I finish talking, just looking me straight in the eyes. It's slightly unnerving, because I don't know what he's waiting for, or looking for, but it feels like forever before he finally breaks his silence. "That sounds like it could be quite detrimental for a child's psyche, to grow up like that."

I give him a sad smile. "It wasn't easy. But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

"So they say," he says, lowering her eyes almost in acquiescence. It's silent for a beat, then he looks back at me, his eyes softer. "So what else is there to know about you, Ana?"

I shrug. "Not much, really." God, how embarrassing. I'm never going to get this plan to work. I don't have enough about me that's interesting to span even one conversation, let alone keep him coming back again and again.

"Come on, there has to be something," he leads, a teasing smile on his face.

But there's nothing. Seriously nothing. My mind is completely blank. I want to ask him questions, make him talk about himself, but I also don't want to upset him by pushing for information. So I refrain from doing the normal thing and asking questions about his life. The longer we sit in the stretching silence, the more awkward I start to become. He's not even looking at me anymore. He's looking down, his fingers toying with the fork on the table. We don't even have any oysters left to occupy us.

Mercifully, the waiter chooses that moment to come in with our entrees. The distraction helps me save face, as well as provides me with a new focal point while the rest of the date plays out: food. I need to calm down. All dates have small periods of awkwardness. That's the nature of dating. It doesn't have to mean I've blown this.

After the waiter leaves, Christian and I lock eyes for a moment, both giving small smiles before digging into our food. The halibut is amazing, of course, as I'm sure everything from this restaurant is. We make a little small talk about the fish, he asking if I like it, me confirming how much I do. All very riveting conversation. I'm on my third or fourth bite when he looks up again, and the look in his eyes is apprehensive, almost guilty. He takes a deep breath and blows it out.

"Ana, I have to confess something to you."

Now _I_ suck in a deep breath, only I hold it. _Confess_ something? What is he going to _confess_? One thing flashes like a neon sign in my mind. Is he going to tell me that he's a BDSM Dominant? Is he going to admit to being a sadist? No! He wouldn't! There's no way. There is no way he would just _tell_ me that. Right? My pulse is racing. I'm just staring at him, I know I am. I should look away. Or _blink_. But I can't do either one. Still, I have to make sure not to ruin this. I use all my focus to keep my face impassive.

"I…" he pauses. I'm still holding my breath. Oh my God I need to breathe. I can't though. I can't until he finishes that thought. Please, spit it out. "I _Googled_ you."

I feel the air leave my body slowly, and get replaced by new, clean air, yet it does nothing for my rapid heartbeat or confused brain. He _Googled_ me? The words sound foreign for a moment. "You Googled me?" I repeat back to him, my voice somehow managing just the right mixture of calm and confusion despite my near heart attack.

"Yes," he said, a sheepish grin on his face now that somehow helps bring me back down. "I found myself thinking about you and I was in front of my computer. So I typed your name into Google."

"And?" I ask. I never Googled myself before. What could have possibly come up?

"And, there were a surprising amount of articles about you. From when you graduated Valedictorian in High School and Magna Cum Laude in college. There were articles from multiple news sources about help you've provided for the homeless, and animal shelters, and book drives for underprivileged kids." I know I'm glowing red as he lists off the various charitable endeavors I'd taken part in. I don't like talking about those things. I don't do them for _me_ , and therefore I don't really like to be made the center of attention about them. All those articles that were written about me should have been written about the causes I was helping. But that's just not good media, is it? Everyone wants to read the feel-good story about the person helping, not the sad story about the person who needs the help. He leans over the table, his voice higher pitched with what seems like awe. "Ana, you went to Haiti for Habitat for Humanity. You say you have nothing to tell me? Tell me about all of _that_."

I cleared my throat, trying to temper down my embarrassment. "I don't have much to say about all of that, truthfully."

"Why not?" he asks in a genuinely curious way.

"I did those things for the people I did them for. Not for the recognition of doing them, you know?" Why did he want to talk about it anyway? It's not like he gives two shits about other people. Why would a soulless asshole possibly want to talk about altruistic good deeds, when he didn't even know how to treat a woman he was sleeping with with the most basic common courtesies? Hell, maybe that was why he wanted to talk about it, because he literally couldn't fathom a reason someone would want to selflessly help others. Yeah, that had to be it.

I want to steer us away from this conversation, so even though I promised myself I wouldn't delve into his life, I decide to turn the focus on him, at least for a little bit.

"So tell me about your family," I say nonchalantly, looking down at my food in an attempt to make him feel less 'on the spot' and hopefully get him talking. And surprisingly, he does right away.

"Well, my mother is a pediatrician, and my father is a lawyer. You've met Elliot, obviously. He's my older brother. And I have a younger sister, Mia. She's about your age."

"I always wanted siblings," I say wistfully. "It must have been nice growing up with other people to play with and cover for you when you did something wrong, or complain to when your parents were being embarrassing or unfair or whatever."

He shrugs. "It had it's moments," he says shortly, and for a moment I think that's all I will get out of him, and I'm determined not to push him further, but after a moment he continues without any prodding. "Mia, she has a special place in my life. The protective older brother thing, you know," he says with a grin and a wink. "When my parents brought her home, it affected me a lot. I adore her, even though she can be a little over-exuberant and is a little unfocused when it comes to her life goals."

I just listen, nodding and smiling in all the right places, allowing him to set the tone and pace of how he talks about his personal life. I do decide take a small liberty to press about Elliot, however, since he's a mutual acquaintance, and he's already went into a little detail about one sibling. "And Elliot?"

He seems to think about it for a second, chewing his food thoughtfully. Finally he swallows, wiping his mouth with his napkin before he meets my eyes again. "Elliot and I have always had a complicated relationship. But I love my brother, and he's one of the very few people in this world that I trust implicitly. We may not hang out a lot or be as close as many siblings are, but I know that he would always be there for me if I needed him, and vice versa."

"It must be nice to have that kind of support. It sounds like you have a lovely family."

We finish up the rest of our meals and although he offers a dessert, I can't possibly eat any more food, so he asks the waiter to package it up for me to take home. I try to refuse, but he insists. "So when you get up in the middle of the night, craving something sweet, you can eat it and think of me."

We leave the private dining area and he escorts me out of the restaurant to get my car like a gentleman. I still don't know what to make of him. He seems so genuinely nice, and he's so polite and well mannered. I have a hard time reconciling the idea of who he pretends to be and who I know he really is. As we walk, I wonder for a moment if he'll ask to come home with me, or ask me to come home with him. I'd already promised myself I'd say no. Would Christian Grey take well to being turned down? Doubtful. He wants women willing to do literally everything he asks of them, especially when it comes to _sex_ , so no, he probably wouldn't like being told no.

I hand my ticket to the valet outside, and he leaves to get my the car while Christian and I wait by the curb. I inquire about his car, but he informs me that his security will be here to pick him up shortly. "Thank you for a very nice evening, Christian," I say, letting him take the lead, as I know he obviously likes to do.

He closes the gap between us a little more, placing a warm hand on the back of my arm just above my elbow, his fingers lightly stroking the soft, sensitive skin there. "I had a wonderful evening as well, Ana. Thank you for agreeing to come out with me. It would thrill me if you would agree to doing this again. Perhaps next weekend?"

"Yes, I'd like that very much," I smile sweetly up at him, and a grin bursts across his face. Holy shit, that smile. This man is seriously, seriously attractive. His eyes are silvery and intense, _hungry_. It completely throws me off my game, because my body is reacting to him, even though my mind is fighting against it.

I feel his body hover closer, and his hand slides swiftly up my bare arm, skimming my shoulder before rounding and cupping my head right above where it meets my neck. I feel his other arm wrap around my waist as his mouth lowers to mine. I'm consumed by everything about him, his clean, manly smell and his tender but firm touch, that when his lips finally land on mine, I'm actually tingling. I'm absorbed into the moment with him surrounding me so completely.

I expect something demanding, something controlling, but instead his kiss is slow and deliberate. I feel his tongue press on my bottom lip, then his teeth sink into it lightly. I get the hint, and don't waste time parting my lips for him. His tongue crosses the threshold lazily, brushing against mine so tenderly. He tastes like wine and I feel myself slipping into this whole thing a little more. He teases me, his tongue stroking mine, only to pull back, then tangle once again. By now his right hand is twisted deep into my hair, and the only thing keeping me on my feet is that fact that I'm pressed so tightly against his body and supported by his ridiculously thick left forearm. Finally, or maybe unfortunately, he slows down, placing two slow, soft pecks to the very corner of my mouth before pulling back.

I inhale deeply, opening my eyes to look up at him. He's staring down at me, his eyes dark now.

"Wow," I let slip, irritated that it's genuine. I wanted him to give me a kiss that helped make me hate him. I wanted him to be forceful and dominating in an uncomfortable way, so I could use it as fuel for the brightly burning fire of hate I have in the pit of my stomach. But instead, I'm pretty sure he just gave me the best damn kiss I've ever had in my life. Actually, that kind of _does_ help me hate him more.

"Yeah, wow," he grins down at me again, that carefree boyish grin that for whatever damn reason seems to put a smile on my face as well. The valet pulls up with my car and hands me the keys. I reach for my clutch to get him a tip, but Christian pulls a bill out of his pocket and does it before I even have a chance, barely looking away from me as he dismisses the valet's overzealous 'thank you's'. "You get home safe, okay? Text me when you do, so I don't worry about you." His eyes are soft, almost pleading, and I find myself nodding quickly in agreement.

He reaches up and brushes his thumb across my cheek, leaning down into the opposite ear to whisper, "Good night, Ana," before placing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

"Good night," I practically whisper, kind of wishing he'd start all over again with the kissing. Pathetic Ana, so pathetic. I regain control of myself climb in the car, securing my seat belt tightly before looking up at him again. He flashes another smile before closing the door for me. "Don't forget to text me. And I'll call you about next weekend."

"I can't wait," I say, sending him a final smile before putting the car in drive and pulling out of the lot.

I play the whole date over again in my head on the drive home, thinking about the good and the bad, what worked well and what didn't, so I know what to tweak for next time. I need to make sure I keep being what he wants me to be so he keeps coming back. Right now, that's all that matters. I need to keep him happy so we can get to a point where I can make him fall in love.

When I get back to the apartment, I find Elliot and Kate on the couch and a movie playing on the TV. A couple of beer bottles and a half eaten pizza are on the coffee table. Kate is fast asleep, curled up against the arm of the couch but Elliot is still awake. I give him a nod as acknowledgement but he doesn't do anything other than look me up and down again as I walk past him and head toward my bedroom. I hear the couch groan as he moves, and then hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hall behind me. I don't know how many times I've asked him not to wear his construction boots in our apartment, but he doesn't ever listen. Instead he tracks dirt in and I'm left to clean it since Princess Kate acts like she doesn't know how to use a vacuum.

"Kate told me your date tonight was with my brother," he says as I make the turn into my room. I have half a mind to shut the door in his face, but I don't.

"Yep," I say, bending down to remove my shoes. I wiggle my toes, letting them breathe, though they don't hurt nearly as bad as they would if I had been wearing my cheap shoes instead of Kate's expensive ones.

"How was it?" he asked, leaning against the door frame. "My brother isn't exactly the warmest guy in the world." He scoffs, shaking his head. Why is he talking shit about his brother to me?

"I had a good time," I say, disregarding his assessment of his brother. Christian made a point to say how he holds his brother in high regard. Maybe Elliot is fishing to see if I'm genuinely interested or trying to use his brother for money or something. If Christian mentions the date to him, it'd be good to have Elliot tell him I said I had a good time.

He breaches the doorway and steps into my room. I'm pulling an earring out of my ear, but stop to look at him as he invades my personal space for the second time in just a few days. "I think you should steer clear of Christian, Ana. He doesn't _do_ relationships."

I snort at that, going back to removing my jewelry. "You're one to talk."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt." Again I ignore him, wondering why the hell cares.

Then it happens.

One moment I'm removing Kate's tennis bracelet, the next Elliot has me pinned up against my dresser, his lips smashing against mine. I think I must have gasped in surprise because the next thing I know his tongue is thrusting past my lips to stroke against my own. He tastes like beer and has the lingering scent of manual labor and pizza on his clothes, a stark contrast to taste of wine and clean smell of his brother. He's got my arms pinned down at my sides and I make a fruitless attempt to push him off, but I'm no match for his strength. His kiss is frenzied and desperate, and for the second time in less than an hour, I'm thinking about how I have never been kissed like this before. There's so much sheer _passion_ behind it that I'm thrown completely off kilter. Then I feel his rough, calloused hands slide up the back my arm, similar to how Christian's did at the restaurant. Only Elliot detours and instead of holding my head, he reaches out and cups my left breast, swiping his thumb over the exact spot where my nipple is.

My left hand now free, I wedge it between us, placing it firmly on his chest and push with all my strength. But his body separates from mine by only about six inches; I don't even succeed in pushing him enough to throw him off balance, which is annoying. He really is a big, solid guy. He looks down at me now, his eyes burning with lust, but I'm just pissed.

"What the fuck, Elliot?" I snap at him.

"What?" he asks.

"Don't play dumb with me. You're dating one of my best friends you asshole."

"Kate and I are **not** _dating_ ," he says emphatically, before shrugging nonchalantly. "She knows I sleep with other people." He reaches his hand out for me again, but I slap it away before he gets a chance to touch me. Does he really think I'm going to fuck him right now, with Kate asleep in the living room? Dude is seriously delusional.

"I just went on a date with your **brother** , Elliot!"

"My **brother** is a spoiled brat who has always gotten all the attention. _Always_. Even from our parents, because of his woe-is-me abusive-childhood sob story. I could give two shits about my _brother_ , Ana."

I glare at him. "You're a jerk." But my mind is reeling. Abusive childhood? Elliot hates Christian? But Christian just told me how Elliot is one of the few people he actually trusts. And who knew Elliot, the giant doofus powered solely by a his desire to get his dick wet, had actual emotional turmoil under that laidback, hornball facade?

"Think about it, Ana," he says, leaning in and pressing his erection into my hip. "I know I will be."

"You're disgusting," I scoff, pushing him toward my bedroom door. Luckily he goes willingly this time, and once I shove him out into the hall, I slam it in his face.

What a pig.


	7. Chapter 7

**Christian's POV:**

I feel slightly irritated as I pull my R-8 off the I-5 South towards Renton to pick Anastasia up from the apartment she shares with Katherine Kavanagh. I very rarely travel this far south for anything other than trips to the airport and as I navigate my way through the suburban streets and see an _actual_ Walmart situated on the corner to my left, I'm quickly reminded why. There's an unmistakeable air of _middle class_ to the houses and small shops I pass on my way through town and it makes me feel dirty. Like blue collar is some kind of communicable disease.

Thankfully, the apartment complex Anastasia lives in is actually the nicest available this far south of Seattle. There is a gate at the front stationed by an actual security guard, although when I roll down the window of the R8 and he sees it's me inside, he allows me to pass without asking any further questions. I make a mental note as I drive through the gated entry to ask Taylor to make a phone call and have this man fired. If I'm going to get what I want from Anastasia, I do have to make sure she is safe, and this man doesn't seem up to the job.

Most of the parking spaces close to Anastasia's building are full, so when I do eventually get out of the R8, it's quite the walk to her apartment, which also happens to be on the third floor. I stop outside her door, kicking up the corner of the doormat to see if she keeps a key hidden there. She doesn't, but I do find one in the bottom of the lamp mounted against the wall of the building. Making a mental note, I put it back inside, screw the cap back over the opening, and then knock on the door.

There is a scuffling sound inside, and I softly click my tongue against the roof of my mouth until eventually Kavanagh opens the door. She stares at me for a moment, skeptically glancing me over, up and down. I return the gesture, not entirely approving of the Victoria's Secret sweatpants and sports bra combination she thought would be appropriate to wear while answering the door for her best friend's date.

"Good afternoon, Katherine." I greet her, working hard to keep the condemnation out of my voice. "I've come for Anastasia."

"She's not ready yet." Kavanagh responds shortly, and my surprise at her hostile reaction flashes briefly across my face. I've known her since she was eight years old, when our parents first started playing squash together, and she's never been anything but cooly cordial towards me. I wonder briefly if her change of attitude is a subtle warning, a protective instinct for her friend. I've never had to deal with the friends of any of the women I've been with before, but I can't imagine starting out on her bad side will do me any favors down the road, so I turn on the charm, smiling at her as I pass. Soon, Anastasia will have plenty of complaints about me, and having the goodwill of a best friend may help me drag out the ecstasy of the torture, give me more time to get into her head and confuse what her gut is telling her with what I make her body feel, let me get deep into her emotional psyche so I can truly unravel her.

I've also never been inside a submissive's apartment before, there had never been a reason to, and being here now is a slightly uncomfortable experience. Evidence of these women's lives outside of our arrangement kill the fantasy of them belonging solely to me, so normally I do my best to avoid any personal interaction. Anastasia however, is not my submissive, and integrating every facet of her life into me is _very_ important to the success of my plan. So here I am, for the first time in my life, allowing myself to get personal.

The apartment itself is fairly nice for it's small size. The decorations Anastasia and Kavanagh have chosen are more tasteful than what I would normally expect from twenty three year olds, but I expect that has something to do with the fact that Kavanagh comes from a wealthy family. There has to be at least some good breeding in there... somewhere. Most of the furniture in the living room is oversized and plush, and there is a fluffy taupe colored rug over the carpet in front of the sofa. Kavanagh gives me a tight smile, tells me that she's going to go let Ana know that I'm here, and then disappears down a long hallway to the left. As I stand there I alone, actually waiting on someone else for the first time since I left my parents' home ten years ago, I turn my attention to the collage of photos in identical, black frames that cover the long wall of the living room, looking for a distraction.

Most of the photos are of Anastasia and Kavanagh together. A few different men pop up randomly in a couple of the photographs, but they mostly seem to be hanging on Kavanagh. Elliot is even pictured a few times. There are also quite a few pictures of Leila Williams. One of her and Ana riding bikes on the pier along Elliot Bay, one that includes Kavanagh and depicts the three of them in graduation gowns, and one where Kavanagh has her mouth suggestively wrapped around a beer bottle while Leila hugs Anastasia from behind and licks her face. They look happy together. In these photos, Leila looks nothing like the shell of a person I left behind in the hospital, and it ruins the fleeting high I still get from the memory, so I turn away from them in disgust.

There is a silver lining to Anastasia being so close to Leila. Once she is out of that psychiatric ward her parents have her locked in, surely Anastasia will tell her about her relationship with me. Leila may fear for her friend now that she has a better idea of what I am, but she won't be able to say anything to her because of the NDA I still have filed in a cabinet in my home office. Maybe she'll be jealous or feel betrayed when she sees us together and will break off their friendship for good. From the looks of love reflected in these photos, the desolation of their friendship would be devastating to both of them. I'd get to hurt both of them. A two for one special.

"Ana!" I hear Kavanagh hiss from the hallway, "Wait, what am I supposed to do about Elliot?"

"I don't know, Kate. You knew he was sleeping with other people, and he doesn't seem very apologetic about it. If you're not okay with that, then break up with him." Anastasia replies.

"I don't want to break up with him, I want him to be my boyfriend. My _faithful_ boyfriend."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. I don't think that's going to happen. I've got to go, can we talk about this when I get back?"

"Ana!" Kavanagh whines, but a few seconds later Anastasia comes around the corner, stopping in her tracks when she sees me waiting for her. She's dressed in a cream colored, long sleeved, turtleneck sweater dress that hangs fairly loosely and ends several inches above her knee. Her legs are covered by black, leather boots that reach all the way up to her mid thigh, leaving only an inch or two of space between the boots and her dress. She looks gorgeous, mouth watering even, but the thin fabric of her dress doesn't look like it will provide much protection from the chilly November air, and the three inch heels on her boots, which I will definitely be asking her to wear when I start fucking her, are not appropriate for what I have planned for us this afternoon. I think she realizes she's over dress as she glances at my jeans, pullover, and jacket, because her teeth sink into her full bottom lip for a moment and then she frowns.

 _Oh yes… I'd definitely like to bite that lip._

"Sorry… I wasn't sure what we were doing today. I didn't know how to dress." She says, and I give her a charming, understanding smile.

"No, and how could you? You look beautiful, but you might have an easier time today in some jeans and sneakers." I tell her.

She nods, "Okay, I'll just change really quick. I'll… be right back."

"Dress warm, Anastasia." I call after her as she disappears down the hall. "It's cold outside."

When she returns in jeans and a white tank top covered only with a long heathered gray cardigan, I consider asking her to change again, possibly taking her back into her bedroom and finding something suitable for her to wear myself. But I know that asserting my authority this early in our relationship is not a good idea. This is our second date, I don't think she'd take very well to me dressing her. And even as I imagine myself in her room, going through her clothing, I know that it would be too much of a struggle to leave her alone to change. I can see the perfect outline of her breasts beneath her tank top and just that has me more than intrigued.

I don't want to fuck her until she's said yes to being mine, that's key to my plan. Romance, not just sex. So, it's important to prevent myself from getting into situation where I would lose control. Besides, when she does get cold, it will give me the chance to offer her my jacket, and I'll come off looking like a great, romantic hero. Women love stupid shit like that.

"Better." I say, smiling as my eyes continue their assessment of her outfit and the inviting form underneath it. "Are you ready."

"Yeah, let's go." She replies, beaming at me as she picks up her purse. I reach out for her hand and lead her from the apartment and down to my car parked outside. When she sees the R8, her eyes widen with shock.

"Oh my god, this is your car?" She asks, with a note of excitement hidden below her voice.

"One of them." I reply, and I know there's a blatant arrogance in the smile I give her in return that I don't feel the need to hide. Her teeth once again sink down into that enticing bottom lip as she tries to rein in her reaction for getting to ride in a $165 thousand sports car. I glance down at her hungrily as I open the passenger's side door for her, wondering if I should scrap my plans to be alone with her all afternoon to prevent myself from tearing into her. This delayed gratification thing isn't my style and I'm quickly losing my faith in the merit of it as I walk around to the driver's side of the car. But the subject of the R8 gives me the chance to ask her about the thing that has been nagging at me since I watched her drive away from _Canlis_ last weekend, and when I pull out of the parking place, I do.

"That Mercedes CLS you were driving last week is a fine car." _And way out of your price range._ "I'd considered it myself last year when I was looking for a town car."

"Oh, that's Kate's car." She says dismissively, "I don't actually have a car."

"That must be inconvenient. How do you get around when you need to be somewhere?" I ask, and she shrugs.

"I walk or take an uber. Kate drinks a lot so she doesn't drive very often, and since I'm usually her DD, she let's me use her car whenever I need it."

"That's responsible, I suppose." I say at Anastasia's casual admission that her friend clearly has an alcohol problem. I wonder if that's something Elliot is aware of? I decide I'll call him later and tell him. It's not a good idea to have someone with unpredictable controlled substance issues close enough to be associated with me. My brand is everything, and I'm not going to let one of Elliot's little blonde whores tarnish what I've worked so hard to keep spotless. I'll also have to call Audi and have an A3 brought around to Escala for Anastasia. I need to have have access to her whenever I want. If she doesn't have a car at all, I'll have to find a way to give it to her sooner, rather than later.

"So, where are we going anyway?" Ana asks, folding leg underneath as she leans over towards me. I risk a side glance at her and am rewarded by the sight of her seat belt pressing into her cleavage, making her breasts more defined. She really does have great tits… God, I can't wait to see them up close and personal.

"I'm taking you to one of my favorite places." I say mysteriously and she raises an eyebrow.

"Your favorite, huh? That's quite the chance for some rare insight, Mr. Grey."

"Very rare." I agree and she smiles before turning her attention back to the road in front of us.

Twenty minutes later, we finally pull into the Bell Harbor Marina, and Anastasia shifts in her seat as she looks through the windows of the R8 with intrigue. There is an almost childlike sense of wonder in her eyes as she stares at the boats lining the dock, gently swaying and bobbing with the current. Clearly, this is not a place she's spent a great deal of time, and the thought is a pleasing one. It's not often I have the opportunity to experience something new, so there is something to be said about being here with someone who is still excited by the idea of sailing. About getting to experience it for the first time all over again, through them.

"I thought I'd take you out into the sound." I tell her, keeping my voice warm as I glance down at her. "I have a sailboat here."

"Wow… You sure know how to have a second date." She says, giggling slightly as her face lights up with excitement, and as I reach for the handle on the door next to me, I find myself fixating again on how beautiful she is… Maybe today, out on the water, I can ask her to be mine. We've been out a few times, surely it wouldn't be unreasonable… And if she says yes, I can take her home and fuck her for the first time tonight. My body reacts immediately to the idea and I realize now that this will be my goal for the day. To make Anastasia mine.

 _Well... showtime, Grey_.

Anastasia's hand is a little chilly when I wrap mine around it, so I entwine my fingers with hers and then tuck both of our hands into my jacket pocket. Her face flushes with a mix of awe and trepidation as we step onto _The Grace_ and I wonder if she's nervous to be secluded and alone with me all afternoon. In truth, she should be.

"Christian…" She gasps, "This is beautiful."

I smile down at her placatingly. _Beautiful?_ Beautiful doesn't begin to scrape the surface of the architectural marvel that I'd had specially designed by the world's leading experts in naval engineering. Beneath the perfectly aerodynamic dual hulls and imported teak deck, she has hybrid electric drives powered by the tidal force, and a square topped mainsail, which makes her not only one of the most luxurious sailboats money could by, but also the fastest and most ecologically sustainable. She's my one true love.

Once I've pulled the boat out of the harbor, I take Anastasia on a quick tour of the bay before sailing North towards the San Juans, where I plan for us to have a late lunch. She seems to be fascinated by the technique that goes into sailing as she asks questions about everything I'm doing. Part of me takes pleasure in her healthy interest in sailing, and I find, as we make our way out of the bay, that I'm actually enjoying my time with her. She's very bright, and she has a quick wit that normally would piss me off, but, mixed with her almost childlike innocence, actually makes her quite endearing.

She seems much more relaxed with me today than she did over dinner last weekend, and I assume that is because she's slowly becoming more comfortable with me. There's a look in her eye, a hopeful glimmer that I think means she's opened herself to seeing possibilities with me. She's having a good time, she's happy… maybe today is actually the perfect time to seal the deal.

We arrive at the San Juans a little over two hours later, and I set anchor not far off the shore in Hughes Bay. We head inside, where I take the salad I had Gail prepare and drop off this morning out of the cooler and then go on the hunt for some wine. Anastasia gratefully takes the glass of Sauvignon Blanc I'd brought back from Chateau Lafite the last time I visited Bordeaux, France I offer her, sipping it without much thought as she stares at the imposing outline of the snowcapped Rainier in the distance.

"I like to come here in early spring." I tell her as I come up behind her and gently place my hand on her waist. "The Orca migration is fascinating to watch. Still, there's something beautiful about this place in the winter."

"It's beautiful." She whispers. I lean in to press my lips gently against the side of her cheek and then reach out for her hand.

"Come. Let's eat."

It's easier to get her to talk over lunch than the last time I took her out, but there's a possibility that her eagerness is the result of the wine she seems to drink more freely than she did over dinner. I ask her about boyfriends she's had in the past and am pleasantly surprised by the short list of names I get in return. I'm well aware of the reputation Katherine Kavanagh has and assumed Anastasia would have a very similar dating history. Of course, I did ask about boyfriends… It's entirely possible, if she's anything like Kavanagh, that the list of men she's slept with but would never consider dating, is much longer.

When she asks about my previous girlfriends, she frowns when I tell her that I've never done the girlfriend thing before. I assume she thinks I'm lying so I assure her that my experience with women hasn't been lacking, but that I'd never thought of a real relationship until I met her. I expect that to warm her to me, but instead, she presses her lips into a tight line and looks down at the salad in front of her, so I change the subject.

"Thanksgiving is coming up. Will you be going out of town to visit family?"

"I don't know…" She replies uncertainly. "My mom isn't exactly the most dependable person when it comes to family get togethers."

I let the words hang between us for a moment. I know that she was emancipated legally from her mother at age 16 so assume there has to be some residual resentment there. I don't know if that's the kind of thing to bring up over a casual lunch on a second date, so I pivot to something else I've been curious about.

"What about your father? You're parents are divorced, aren't they? Perhaps you could spend the holiday with him."

Something flashes behind her eyes as she takes a sip of wine. "I don't have a father. He died when I was a baby."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I say, but I do take note that she doesn't consider the man who she shares her last name with to be her father. He's still alive, living in Montesano with a new wife and a new family. Anastasia doesn't seem to be a part of that equation.

She's fairly quiet for the remainder of lunch, which is my fault for bringing up her difficult family situation, so once we've finished I take her outside again to try and lighten her mood. As we walk along the deck though, she reaches up to her neck and then suddenly gasps, and begins desperately patting herself down and pulling her tank top away from her breasts to peer inside.

"What's the matter?" I ask, leaning over to take a look down her shirt for myself.

"My necklace is gone!" I cries, and as I turn to look at her, I can see tears welling in her eyes. She reaches down into her cleavage, feeling around for the missing necklace, and when she doesn't find it, her eyes immediately dart towards the ground to search the deck.

"It was gold, right?" I ask, looking around myself as she frantically picks up her purse and begins digging through it.

"Yes, gold." She says distractedly. "It had a heart on it made of diamonds."

I nod, vaguely remembering what it looked like, as she runs back below decks, and then listen to the high clinking sounds of dishes searches the table where we ate lunch. When she returns to me, she's nearly hysterical, her face flushed red and her cheeks stained with tears. There is a part of me that takes a small amount of pleasure in seeing her this way, like a preview of everything I want from her, but the rush I get from seeing the pain on her face is dampened somewhat by the knowledge that it has nothing to do with me. I pull her into me, holding tightly to her, and buries her face into my jacket as she cries.

"It's okay, Anastasia." I say, trying to comfort her, but she shakes her head.

"No, that necklace… it was a gift from my father. It's the only thing I have of him. I've worn it every single day, for as long as I can remember. It's the most important thing in the world to me."

"We'll find it." I assure her, and then I move with her as we both begin to retrace her steps in search of the necklace.

By the time she accepts that we aren't going to find it, her tears have stopped and she just stares blankly up at the sail, held taut against the wind, looking utterly defeated.

"I'm sorry." She says, shaking her head slightly, "I'm ruining everything. You planned this whole day, and I..."

"No, Anastasia." I interrupt her, "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. To lose something so precious."

She looks up at me, a strange mix of wonder and confusion clouding her eyes, and so I reach out and pull her into me, leaning down to press my lips against hers. Her lips are soft, slightly swollen from pressing them together so tightly as she searched, and I like the way it makes them feel. Her body melts into mine as she succumbs to me, taking comfort in me, and I take advantage of it.

"Why are you so nice to me?" She asks, when I pull away, and I look down at her confused.

"I care about you, Anastasia. I'm… enchanted by you."

She stares into my eyes as though she's looking for the lie that I'm trying to keep hidden from her. I distract her by reaching up to tenderly cup her cheek, brushing my thumb under her eyes to wipe away the residual moisture from her tears. She takes a deep breath and looks away from me, shaking her head slightly as she tries to orient herself, and I realize how vulnerable she is in moment.

"Be mine." I say quietly, and her eyes suddenly snap up to mine, looking at me as though she's misheard me or she has suddenly lost comprehension of the English language.

"What? What do you mean?" She asks.

"I don't want you to see other people, Anastasia. I want you to be with me, and only me." Her mouth parts slightly as I reach my other hand to hold the other side of her face so that I can keep her gaze fixed on me. "I'm asking you to be my girlfriend, Anastasia."

Her eyes widen slightly, the moisture from her tears still making them shine. She lets out a small, disbelieving breath and then, slowly, her lips turn up into a soft smile. "Of course, I will." She says at last. "I hoped that's why you brought me out here."

I smile down at her, feeling the exhilarating thrill of victory course through me as I lean down and kiss her, more forcefully than I have before. She moans slightly into my mouth as I claim her with my tongue and the sound has me instantly hard. She's said yes, that was the limit I set for myself, and there is a bed in my cabin. I could probably even convince her to let me tie her up if I made it into some kind of sailing joke…

 _No, Grey._

I take a deep breath, trying to tame my body from it's instinctual reaction to pounce on the warm, inviting girl wrapped in my arms. I can't be the dominant right now, I can't force her to submit to me. When I finally fuck her for the first time, it has to be about romance… making love. Hearts and flowers and all that nonsense. I cringe internally away from the idea, but convince myself that in the end, the reward will be worth my patience. In the meantime, maybe there will be something in the novelty of the whole thing that I'll find appealing.

As I stare back into her clear, blue eyes, waiting and hoping for some kind of sign that she wants me to take her as badly as I do in this moment, I feel her start to shiver in my arms. "Are you cold?" I ask and she nods.

"The wind is a little chilly." She says.

"Here." I slip out of my coat, drape it around her, and then pull her back into my arms.

"Thank you." She says, relieved.

"You face still looks a little cold, though." I tell her, and I smile at her as I lower my lips to hers again.

Unfortunately, kissing is as far as she lets me go, so I spend the next hour or so teaching her the various names and purposes for the different pulley systems and riggings around The Grace, which seems to help her forget about the lost necklace. She follows instructions well, something I'm very pleased to discover, and she's even able to tame the luff in the sail after I talk her through each step of tightening the cunningham. I let her work the mechanism that retracts the mainsail as we make our way back to shore, and she sits in my lap as I steer us into the marina, her fingers moving absentmindedly through my hair.

"Back, safe and sound." I say once I've killed the engine.

"Should I have been worried about that not happening?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me and I laugh.

"Of course not. You're perfectly safe with me and my expert sailing skills. But there is always the implication…"

"The implication?"

"You know, a young beautiful woman out at sea, alone with a man she hardly knows. Suppose I had tried to take advantage of you."

"Well, then I suppose I should be glad you're such a gentleman, Mr. Grey."

"Oh, I'm not gentleman, Miss Steele." I say, leaning into her so that I'm less than an inch away from her lips when I speak again. "I'd rather hoped that you would have asked me to take advantage of you."

She sucks a sharp intake of breath through her teeth before they sink down into that bottom lip, and this time, I don't hold myself back from what I want. I reach into her hair and bring her mouth to mine, thrusting my tongue into her mouth and tasting her, exploring her, and then capturing her lip between my teeth and tugging on it gently. I can feel her body shudder in response and am ready to take it a step further by reaching for her breast, but she stops me.

"We should go home." She says in a weak, slightly shaken voice when she pulls her lips away from mine.

"Home." I breathe, and I feel the sweet heat of anticipation growing inside of me as I read the implication of her words. Yes, I would like to take her home, to her bed, where I will sample every bit of her for the rest of the afternoon. "Let's get you home then."

She climbs off my lap and hurriedly picks up her purse off the seat next to the captain's chair so that we can leave. As we walk along the railing on the port side of the ship to disembark, I see a flash from something small on the ground. As I stop to see what it is, I realize it's the necklace Anastasia was wearing earlier, the one she thought she'd lost. The thin gold chain blends well with the lines in the teak wood of the deck, but the diamonds in the small, heart shaped pendant glint in the sunlight, which I suppose is what drew my attention.

"Anastasia." I call her back, without thinking, and she stops and looks at me expectantly. I glance back down at the necklace, place my foot over the pendant, and then look back at her. "Do you have everything?"

"Yeah." She says sadly, her hands reaching up to her now bare neck. "Everything I haven't lost anyway."

"I'm so sorry, baby." I reply, and she gives me an empty smile before turning around and stepping onto the platform that connects to the dock. I lift my foot, and slowly reach down to retrieve the necklace. It really is unremarkable in every way, cheap even. The diamonds in the pendant are miniscule and low quality. I can't fathom how something so ordinary could mean so much to someone, but since it's absence is what opened her to me, I'm not in a rush to return it. With one quick glance in Anastasia's direction, I hold my hand over the railing, and open my fingers so the necklace drops into the black water below. A small, satisfied smirk crosses my lips as I watch it sink out of sight, and I then turn to follow after Anastasia towards my car.

 **Ana's POV:**

Despite the crushing disappointment of losing the one thing that I've treasured my entire life, I feel an brimming sense of accomplishment when Christian stops the Audi in front of my building. I've gotten farther today than I truthfully ever believed that I would. I'm officially Christian Grey's girlfriend, and as I turn to look at him and see the way he's looking down at me, I actually have hope that this crazy plan I've cooked up might actually fucking work. He reaches out and brushes his thumb against my cheek, staring longingly into my eyes, and I wonder, briefly, if he's expecting me to ask him to come upstairs…

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I consider this new conundrum. Inviting him in, especially after I already said yes this afternoon, will mean sex. Hell, this is the third time we've been out together, and I can't imagine a guy like him is used to being asked to wait, even this long. Especially since he normally sleeps with women who play the role of his submissive. But, as beautiful as he is, as much as his kisses make me weak at the knees, and as much as I would kill to see what's underneath his clothes… I still feel a small spike of fear at the idea of actually sleeping with him. I remember all too clearly the deep lashes he left in the skin on Leila's back and I'm not in any hurry to find out if that's what it's going to be like between us. It's hard to believe he could be so harsh and cruel to Leila, and so gentle and caring with me. In spite of the time we've spent together, and how truly kind and caring he's acted towards me, I can't let myself lose sight of what I know is true. There is a monster hidden behind that beautiful face, and no amount of tender kissing or gentle touch will make that not true.

 _Do not lose sight of the goal, Anastasia._

"Thank you for a lovely afternoon." I tell him and the corner of his mouth tugs up into a sweet, slanted smile.

"No, thank you, Anastasia. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a day at sea so much."

"When will I see you again?" I ask and he frowns a little, a small crease forming between his eyebrows. He looks disappointed and I realize that, yes, he probably did expect to sleep with me today.

"I'm usually fairly busy during the week. My company takes up a good deal of my time." He tells me. "Why do you come over to my apartment next Friday night? We could spend the night together and then maybe go for a drive on Saturday."

Spend the night? Yeah, he's definitely trying to sleep with me…

I take a deep breath, knowing at this point there's no way to refuse him without arising suspicion in my motives. So, I give him a tight, closed lip smile, and nod. One week. One week to prepare.

He beams down at me and then leans over to close the space between us, his fingers brushing lightly against the skin on the back of my neck and he brings me closer to him. Again, I'm completely drawn in by the dichotomy of his firm lips moving gently against mine. His fingers press a little harder into my neck, pushing me deeper into the kiss as his tongue invades my mouth, caressing me in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. There's something about the way he tastes that is intoxicating, like a drug that I immediately start having withdrawals from the moment he pulls away. As he sits back, and smiles down at me, I actually have to bite down on my lip to keep myself from asking for more, and his eyes glimmer with something dark as they focus on my mouth.

"Have a good week, Anastasia." He says, at last, only partially breaking the thick tension that is still filling the empty space between us. "I'll call you."

"Okay." I reply weakly, and very bravely, I lean over to give him one last peck before I step out of the car.

When I get back upstairs, I can hear Kate very loudly enjoying some alone time with Elliot in the bedroom. It seems they've made up since I've been out with Christian and because I know it'll only be louder from my bedroom, I plug my headphones into my ears and then head into the kitchen to make a bowl of ice-cream. Unfortunately, no matter how loud I blast music directly into my ears, I can still hear Kate screaming about how good Elliot's cock is in the other room.

Usually when this happens, my go to is texting Leila, even snapchatting her 10 second long videos of my living room echoing the sound coming from Kate's room so that she can suffer along with me. But, I can't do that now. I haven't seen or talked to Leila in almost two weeks and from what her parents said to me on Wednesday, it doesn't look like she's going to be out of the psychiatric facility any time soon. I can't even go visit her until the doctors think she's emotionally stable enough for visitors because I'm not family, and it hurts because it feels like I've abandoned her. I imagine her, alone and miserable, looking the way she did in her hospital bed, and tears spring to my eyes as I put my bowl in the dishwasher and start cleaning my mess in the kitchen. That is Christian's fault. That's who he _really_ is. He's not this sensitive, romantic guy who feels like he's been ripped right out of a romantic comedy. He's the man who nearly caused me to lose my best friend in the entire world and no amount of expensive wine or afternoons spent on a sailboat will change that.

I dash away my tears and take a deep breath to get myself back together just in time to have the bejesus scared out of me by a strange man I've never seen walking into my kitchen, butt fucking naked.

"Oh my god!" I cry out, turning around so that I'm not staring at his dick while he reaches into the cabinet to pull out a glass.

"Hey." He says, perfectly casual, as though his pubes aren't pressed against the counter where I prepare my food.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demand and he looks a little taken aback by the hostility in my voice.

"Oh, I'm with Kate…"

"Yeah, I gathered that." I snap and then turn to face the living room again. "Kate!" I call and there is a loud thudding sound before I hear her door open and she hurries out into the living room.

"Ana, you're back…" She says, her voice an uneasy cocktail of guilt and surprise.

"Yeah, I am." I say flatly and then nod my head sharply towards the still completely unabashed naked person standing in my kitchen filling a glass with water.

"Brian…" Kate says, "Could you give us a minute?"

"Sure." He shrugs, and he chugs the water in his glass, sets it in the sink, and then walks at a slow, easy pace across the room and back into the hallway.

" _Brian_?" I ask her and she blushes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were home…"

"What are you doing, Kate? What about Elliot?"

"What about Elliot, Ana?"

"I thought you liked him. I thought you were trying to move things to the next level with him…"

"I was, and then he posted pictures of himself online with his hands all over some girl's fake tits. People know that we see each other, Ana. Important people. I can't look like I'm being played by Elliot Grey. If he's not going to be monogamous with me, then I'm not going to be monogamous with him."

"So, to save face… you're going to act like a whore who will sleep with anyone?" I ask, incredulously. "What were you planning on tweeting out a bunch of naked selfies so that the world could see that you didn't care about Elliot fucking someone else?"

Her face heats and she immediately turns her eyes to the floor, and as I watch her lips press together into a tight, thin line, I work out what's really going on here…

"You thought I'd come come with Christian…" I infer. "You thought I'd bring Elliot's brother back into this apartment and he'd catch you in bed with someone else, and then tell Elliot."

"So what if I did?" She asks and I shake my head disgustedly.

"What is it that's most important to you right now, Kate? Saving face in front of your catty rich friends or trying to hurt Elliot for daring to suggest he might be more interested in someone else than you?"

"Why do I have to pick?" She asks flatly, and I let out a disgusted huff.

"Jesus, what are you? Thirteen? Why don't you just dump him and find yourself a real relationship?"

"Because he's a _Grey_ , Anastasia!" She snaps. "Because he's Elliot _Grey_ and I am Katherine _Kavanagh_ and if he would just pull his head out of his ass for two seconds, he would realize that we are supposed to be together. Look, I know you don't get it because you don't come from my world, but there are expectations of the kind of man I'm supposed to end up with. Money marries money. It's not just my plan for us to be together, it's been the plan since we were kids. He's going to marry me one day, just like Christian will eventually dump you to marry Jennifer Gates or Addison Shultz. I'm not going to look as though I'm sitting around here begging for Elliot's attention while he's out putting his dick in whatever nameless whore he can. I am a _Kavanagh_ and once he realizes what everyone else does, and he literally begs my forgiveness, then we can move on. Until then, I'm going to fuck whoever I please."

"Have you ever thought of, I don't know, acting like an adult and telling Elliot you want a real relationship with him? That you're tired of being nothing more than his bottom bitch and you want to be his monogamous girlfriend?"

She laughs. "You see, this is why you're always single, Anastasia. Because you act like a desperate loser. I'm not. I'm not the one who asks for a relationship, he is, and he will. Soon."

I gape at her, feeling anger boiling inside of me.

" _I'm a desperate loser_? Really? Because of the two of us, Katherine _Kavanagh_ , I'm the one dating a Grey. And you're fucking a guy who just rubbed his dick all over your kitchen counter."

"Fuck you, Ana." She says, and she turns around and disappears into the hall back towards her bedroom. I roll my eyes and then put the glass of water _Brian_ left in the sink in the dishwasher, run it, and then make my way to my bedroom. I've only just barely close the door behind me when I hear Kate and her new boy toy starting up again, so I collapse onto my bed and cover my head with my pillow.

She is seriously one of the most entitled people I have ever met in my entire life. Just like Christian Grey. They both treat this world of privilege that they were fucking _born_ into like it's something that they've worked for their entire life and now they expect everyone to just bend to everything they want like their very name deserves a certain degree of deference. I mean, Kate's actually expecting me to feel sorry for her because she's having a hard time getting someone to commit to her when she's only interested in Elliot in the first place because he has the proper pedigree? _Poor little rich girl…_

After that show she just put on, trying once again to make sure I know my place among the peasants while she looks down on me over her perfect, surgically enhanced nose, I almost feel a little glad she was forced to look at those pictures Elliot posted on Instagram last night. She deserves to be brought down a peg, not that that's what's happening. I hug the pillow tighter around my ears to muffle the evidence of this _who can cheat the most game_ Elliot and Kate seem to be playing with one another. It's absolutely ridiculous. They're both spoiled, little brats who are just going to hurt each other in the end. No way either of them comes out of this without being miserable...

My train of thought immediately halts as the tiny hint of an idea pops into my mind. It's wrong, so wrong, on so many levels but… last weekend, Elliot was in here with his tongue down my throat and his erection digging into me, asking for sex. Christian and I are dating now, officially together, which means that if I slept with Elliot, I would be cheating on him… with his brother. If I get him to fall for me, to really actually fall for me, I know finding out that I cheated on him with the guy he said he trusts the most in the world would hurt, rub salt in the wound, and break him that much more…

I bite down on my lip as I consider the idea and find merit in it. I couldn't do that to Kate though… She likes him.

 _Does she though?_ A small, vindictive voice asks in the back of my mind. The grunts and moaning trickling out of her bedroom right now as she fucks a guy who isn't Elliot doesn't seem to suggest deep rooted feelings. In fact, she just admitted to me that her interest in him is his name, not actually him. I sit up, waffling slightly as I try and decide what I want to do from here, but eventually, I make up my mind and scurry out of bed. My phone is in my purse, which I've left in the living room, so I sneak down the hallway like a child trying not to be caught out of bed on Christmas Eve by their parents to retrieve it. Once I have my phone in hand, I head out to the balcony off the dining room and quickly dial Elliot's number.

"Hey, Ana." He answers, almost immediately.

"Hey. What are you doing?"

"Kickin' it. Are you calling to yell at me about Kate?"

"No, I think she's managing just fine." I say, rolling my eyes. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to come pick me, maybe take me back to your place so we can hang out?"

"Really?" He asks surprised. "Isn't Kate there?"

"Don't worry, she's preoccupied."

"Is she fucking someone?" He asks, and for a second I worry that the note of concern I hear in his voice means that, maybe, he is hiding real feelings for Kate behind his machismo and womanizing. If that's the case, then I can't do this… Kate's a bitch, and I'm pretty much always pissed off at her, but at the end of the day she's my friend and she's done a lot for me. I don't want to get in the way of the possibility of her having something real...

"Uh, yeah…" I reply, uneasily.

"Good." He says, "Maybe she'll be less fucking crazy, then."

I let out a silent, relieved breath and try to get us back on track. "So, can I come over?" I ask him and he laughs.

"I think I made my feelings on that very clear last weekend."

"Good. Be here in twenty minutes."

"Sure, see you soon." He says and hangs up the phone.


	8. Chapter 8

Ana's POV:

I don't bother changing, knowing Elliot will be here soon. I'm not trying to impress him, I already know he wants me. And if this was good enough to wear on the date where Christian Grey asked me to be his girlfriend, it's good enough to wear when I'm about to go fuck his brother. I do spend a few minutes to brush through my wind blown hair and fix up my makeup since a lot of it was washed away with my tears after losing my necklace on the boat.

My fingers absentmindedly feel for it and I'm hit with another wave of heart wrenching disappointment as I am forced to realize that it's likely gone forever. Unless it turns up in some obscure place on Christian's boat, it's gone. Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of the depressing thoughts, but I know deep down I will likely be eighty years old and still get sad when I think about losing it. It meant that much to me.

Applying just a touch of lip gloss, I finish up in my room and move out to the living room to grab my purse and keys. Kate is screaming at the top of her lungs, and I'm about 95% sure she's faking it for my benefit. I've heard her really enjoy sex before, and she's not _this_ loud. It makes me smile to think about her coming out of her room to find I'm gone and she'll have wasted a whole night carrying on like an idiot for nothing.

I feel my phone vibrate in my purse and assume it's Elliot letting me know he's here, so I slip out the front door and head outside. But when I get downstairs, he's nowhere to be found. I pull out my phone and check it, seeing that instead of a text from Elliot about his arrival, it was actually a text from Christian.

 **Thank you again for today. I'll be counting the hours until I see you Friday. Thinking of you until then. -Christian**

I grimace, debating on what to say in response, when Elliot pulls up to the curb. I pull open the passenger door, plopping in the seat, still staring at my phone while debating what to say to Christian, when Elliot clears his throat.

"What?" I ask, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Don't I at least get a 'hello'?" he asks with false incredulity.

"Hello," I say, looking back at my phone.

"You know, it's very rude to just plop in someone's car, not say hello, and focus on your phone."

"It's important," I mutter, too focused on figuring out the right thing to say to him. Do I tell him I'm looking forward to Friday too, though I'm not. Hell, I just turned the guy down knowing full well he was expecting to sleep with me tonight. If I wanted him, I had my chance. But I don't want to ruin this by making it obvious that I'm not exactly thrilled by the idea of fucking him. So I need to say something that makes it seem like I'm not blatantly dreading Friday, rather than make it seem like I'm looking forward to it. I decided that the simpler, the better. Slowly I type out my response and hit send.

 **I'll be thinking of you as well.** **-Ana**

And it's true. I'll be thinking about him, and worrying about Friday, all week.

"Who are you talking to?" Elliot pipes in.

"Your brother," I reply honestly. He knows I've gone out with Christian and he still agreed to tonight, so it must not bother him. And I have enough secrets in my life right now. If I can be honest with someone about something, I'd rather take advantage at the moment. Plus, Elliot is a pig, and I may be walking a thin line of morality myself at the moment, but I think it's only fair he know the truth before we end up in bed together. He seems to have a lot of anger for his brother, possibly actually hates the guy, but he deserves the chance to back out if this bothers him.

"How's _that_ going?" he scoffs.

"Good. He asked me to be his girlfriend," I say leadingly, giving him his opening to back out. Another vibration of my phone alerts me of a reply from Christian.

 **Are you thinking of me while in your bed tonight, Anastasia?** Then another message immediately following. **I apologize. That came off sounding very forward of me. I just meant, are you safely in your bed while thinking of me? -Christian**

I wonder for a moment if he really did mean that, or if he just sent the first text too hastily, reacting to the fact that I left him unsatisfied this evening. However, I feel something ignite inside of me as I let it sink in that I'm not safely in my bed, but in a car with his brother on my way to go sleep with him. It's so out of character for me, so outrageous that I can hardly believe I'm actually doing it. And yet, here I am. Ana Steele, doing something so scandalous. And fuck if it doesn't turn me on.

"Really?" Elliot asks, seemingly surprised. "And he didn't stay the night?" Curious. He sounds curious. Not mad, not offended that I called him to fuck on the same night I agreed to be exclusive with his brother. Just… curious. Interesting.

I shake my head no, as I reply to Christian.

 **It's fine. And yes, I am warm and safe in my bed. -Ana**

His reply is instant. "I'm glad. Sleep well, beautiful."

"Goodnight, Christian." I respond before putting down my phone and giving Elliot my full attention.

"What's wrong? My baby brother didn't know how to close the deal?" he jokes, seemingly pleased at the idea of Christian lacking the ability to get me into bed. "Is that why you had to call me?" he asks with sudden realization, like he'd made the obvious connection based on how the events transpired and was thrilled at the prospect. No ranting about 'how dare you call me when you're seeing my brother' or anything like that. Actually it's the opposite. He sounds legitimately pleased at the idea. He must have a distinct dislike for his brother.

That's when I have a realization of my own. If Elliot really does hate Christian, I could definitely use that to my advantage.

"You don't get along with Christian do you?" I ask.

"No," he replies immediately. "I told you that night in your bedroom. He's an asshole."

"Yeah but he's still your brother."

"Not by blood."

"So your mom? Your dad and sister? Are they not your family because they're not your blood?"

"Grace and Carrick have always coddled Christian. He was really fucked when they adopted him, so he received most of their attention. And it only continued as he got older and kept fucking up. I was a pretty good kid so I guess that meant I could fend for myself," he says bitterly. Yikes. Looks like Elliot had some real issues.

But that's not what I'm here for tonight. I'm not here to get Elliot to open up to me about his childhood and his insecurities. I'm here to have sex with him. But it's good to know that he legitimately despises Christian, and that he's not tricking me into outing myself in order to protect him. I breathe a little easier knowing this for sure isn't about him trying to trip me up so he can go tell his brother I'm a waste of time.

I realize we're pulling up to his place, and I feel the tendrils of excitement take root in my belly and my heart speeding up in my chest. This is it. We're here, and I'm really going to do this. Elliot kills the engine and turns to look at me head on.

"I'm going to absolutely destroy your pretty little pussy tonight, Ana. I think it's only fair to warn you."

Pig. He is such a fucking pig. Shit like that is usually such a turnoff for me, but right now…

"Promises, promises," I taught before throwing open the car door and exiting without waiting to see his reaction. I feel probably the most confident I've ever felt in my whole life with a guy, I shouldn't, because Elliot has far more sexual experience than I do, and if Kate has been telling the truth, is a God between the sheets. But still, there's something about the way he looks at me. Something about the way he's so unabashed in his attraction to me that boosts my self esteem. Then throw in the whole 'forbidden' factor and I feel so… alive.

He's out of the car and hot on my heels to his apartment door. I feel him looming behind me, his tall, muscular frame eclipsing mine as he closes the distance between our bodies, reaching in front of me to pull open the door. Though both have impressive physiques, Elliot is larger than Christian in both height and build. He'd very broad across the chest and shoulders, and his physical presence is very dominating compared to my slight frame. The idea of him manhandling me is hot, but I also am attracted to the idea of conquering him, of taking control of him and bringing such an imposing man to his knees. Something I know I can't even try with his brother, since I have to play the more submissive role with Christian.

We walk to the elevator, and I can feel his eyes on me the whole time. When we step in the elevator car and the door slides closed, I finally give him a side glance, and find his eyes glued to my chest. I know the combination of this bra and shirt really do accentuate my rack, that's why I'd picked them out tonight.

"When we get in there, I want you loud baby. I would like at least three formal noise complaints waiting for me at the front desk in the morning."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm just not naturally loud during sex," I say.

He scoffs. "Ana, I've heard you fuck before, and you most definitely are loud. True, you're more of a moaner than a screamer, but I've heard you do it before. And I've tried to imagine what it would be like to hear you scream _my_ name, but after tonight I want to no longer need to imagine it."

I know I flush in embarrassment, know that he's listened to me have sex before. But I have little time to think about it, because the moment we cross the threshhold into his apartment, he's all over me. His rough, calloused hands are yanking down my cardigan and discarding it onto the floor. Then his large palms are cupping the weight of my breasts through my shirt as his tongue invades my mouth with just as much ardor as it did that night in my bedroom. Those same calloused fingers breech the hem of my t-shirt, dragging roughly up the soft skin of my sides until my shirt is tossed aside same as my cardigan.

I let out a moan as his fingertips toy with my nipples through my bra, and feel him smile against my mouth. He lets out a low chuckle, then whispers, "See? Moaner," against my mouth. His lips leave mine to replace his hands, going straight for the kill, rather than trailing down slowly. I feel his hot breath through the fabric of my bra, then slowly feel the wetness leech through as he taking turns laving and biting my left nipple through the lace.

Wrapping his arms around my thighs, he hoists me up with ease, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist as my hands splay across his hard chest before sliding up and around his neck. His lips are back on mine and his kisses are desperate and intense, needy, whereas his body is strong, confident and assured. He walks us to his room, his mouth fervent against mine the whole way.

When he sets me down, my bra snaps loose and slides down my arms, He grins, proud of his quick and efficient disjointing of the hooks. I toss it aside and step back and allow him to get a full look at me naked from the waist up as I brush my fingers up through my hair, pulling it back and fluffing it out. Then I slowly drag them down my neck, my chest, around the outer swoop of my breast, then back up to my nipples. I pluck them between my index and middle fingers, making them perk up fully before lowering my hands to my jeans and popping the button with ease.

I have his full attention as I shimmy them off my hips, bending to remove them from my feet before tossing them aside.

"Panties, too," he says, his voice thick as he watches me intently, arms crossed over his chest, jeans noticeably tight at the zipper.

I bring my fingers to the band, hooking inside of the fabric and tugging them down at my hips about an inch or so before I stop, removing my hands with my panties still in place. His gaze shoots from its spot below my waist to my eyes, and I return his look pointedly before perching on the side of the bed, slowly crossing one leg over the other, my arms stretched out behind me so my breasts jut forward, and raise an eyebrow. "You first. I want to see it."

"See what?" he grins again, already tugging his shirt over his head- that hot way guys do it where they grab it at the back of the neck and tug it up. God, his body is flawless. He's got everything- the six pack, the v-thing, the pecs. But there's something exceptionally attractive about his extra-thick biceps and wide shoulders.

"Your cock," I answer immediately, still taking in every inch of his torso. "Kate says it's huge. I want to know if she's exaggerating."

"I'll show you mine, you show me yours?" he asks, and I laugh- really laugh.

"Yeah, I guess something like that. Now," I say, gesturing with my hand in his direction.

In moments his jeans are around his knees, and holy shit, Kate wasn't exaggerating. It's plenty long, but that's not what's impressive about it. It's so goddamn _thick_. I immediately get wetter at the mere thought of something that thick inside of me, Or hell, maybe it's my vagina's defense response against the threat of that thing trying to even fit. Either way, I'm hungry for it.

He makes some smart ass comment about it, asking if it meets approval, but I ignore him, choosing rather to fall to my knees before him and see what it feels like to have a cock that big in my mouth.

He groans as soon as the tip slides past my lips, his hand fisting in my hair. I badly want to see how much I can fit. "Hoooooly shit, Ana" he pants as I relax my throat and ease him back as far as I can. I reach out to cup his balls, giving them a little tug when I feel the tip of him hit my limit. I pull back, sucking gently and swirling my tongue around his tip.

I'm so turned on I slip my hand inside my panties to relieve a little bit of the ache, and he grunts as he thrusts his hips forward, deeper into my throat. I look up at him, and he's staring at my face while he fucks it steadily.

"Touch your tits again," he grunts out, and I do, my wet fingers coating my right nipple with moisture. I pull back, working the tip of his erection with my tongue, stroking the shaft with my hand. He let's his eyes close as he savors the feeling, letting me take total control of the pace. It's only when I feel him get a little thicker, a little harder that I pull off the tip with a little pop and lean back on my heels. I'm pretty sure he's about to come, and that's so not happening yet.

"What the fuck?" he hisses, looking down, his eyes glazed over and lost at the sudden lack of contact.

I stand up, hands on my hips as I look him in the eye. "This isn't just about you, you know? I know most girls are all too willing to just suck the great Elliot Grey's cock, but that's not me. I'm not going to let you come down my throat and thank you for the pleasure, when you don't even eat pussy."

"Who said- Kate," he groans. I'm not even sure how it happened, but one second I'm standing in front of him, and the next I'm face down on the bed. I feel his rough hands on my hips, jerking me back up on my knees, then yanking my panties down my thighs. "I have every intention of tasting your pussy Ana, don't worry. In fact, I want to taste every inch of you." And as if to prove a point, I feel his broad, flat tongue swipe slowly from my clit to my ass, pausing over the tight bunch of muscles there before wiggling against it. I squirm at the contact, unable to hold back my moan.

Elliot's POV:

As I roll my tongue against her tight little asshole, I find myself working hard to prove a point to her. Fucking Kate running her mouth definitely hasn't done me any favors in getting to Ana. No wonder she took so long to come around. Of course I don't want to eat Kate's pussy, which has been had by over half of Seattle. But it's not even about that. I just don't care enough about Kate to make the effort, honestly. She's a convenient lay. That's it. I would never want to spend any real time with her. I don't even want friendship with her. She's a spoiled little bitch. I've only stuck around so long for two reasons. One, because she's a sure thing. And two, for the chance with Ana. Whose asshole I currently have my tongue shoved inside.

I've wanted her so badly since the first time I set eyes on her. I've fucked so many women, but none of them have ever captured my attention the way Ana has. There's just something about her naturally sweet, easy going demeanor that turns me on. Not to mention she's got a body built for sin. I know she's not quite as innocent as she comes off, because I've heard her in her room on rare occasions with guys she's brought home from the club. And she can have quite the sarcastic little attitude when she wants to, but at the end of the day, she is genuinely just a nice, _good_ person. And that's so fucking rare to find in people anymore. I'm sure there's something to be said for the chase, for the fact that my usual looks and charm didn't seem to affect her in the slightest. She's right, I am used to women just falling at my feet because of my name and my reputation. She could give two shits about that. And that appeals to me for whatever reason.

I pull away from her so I can get a good look at the prize I've been trying to win for months. God, she's got such a sweet little pussy, all glistening and pink. I sink my long, thick middle finger deep inside of it, flicking her clit with my tongue. I plan on getting my fill of her tonight. I'm not sure exactly what her deal is, why she's here on the night she officially became a couple with my brother, but I don't really care about her reasoning. I'd fuck her on her wedding night, if she gave me the chance. Hell, I'd bend her over the altar itself in front of everyone. I want her that badly. But it makes it even sweeter to me that I'm having Christian's first girlfriend. He's caused me so much fucking grief in my life, getting all of the attention from our parents even though he fucked up over and over again. He never appreciated them, and yet they did everything for him, and somehow he still ends up the one with everything in life, including the girl I wanted. But where is she right now? With **me**. For once, it feels like I win.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to fuck you, Ana," I admit out loud. I don't normally like to give girls the upper hand. I don't like them knowing how into them I am, because I don't want any of them thinking there's a chance for a relationship beyond the physical. I made that mistake with Kate and it's been fucking up the easygoing thing I like to do ever since. But Ana, she isn't looking to get more out of me. She's not looking to latch onto me and use me for money or status or whatever the fuck these other girls think they can siphon off me if they could only land a permanent position in my life. So I feel more comfortable admitting to her how fucking much I want her.

"Well we all want what we can't have," she says dismissively, her voice breathy as I spit on her asshole and slowly work my index finger inside of it. I watch her pant and writhe for a minute before I flip her over, pulling her panties from around her knees and tossing them aside. I press against her knees, opening her wider so make room for me between them. I lean down, pulling a nipple into my mouth, giving it a quick nip until she squeals and smacks the back of my head.

"No, it's more than that. I am attracted to you on some real deep fucking levels. I've fucked models, strippers, Playmates- hell I even tagged a porn star once. None of them get me as hard as you get me. One time I even brought Kate to your room-"

"You fucked Kate in my bed?" she shrieks, pushing me back away from her a little.

"I hit the lights, and believe me, it wasn't Kate I was picturing my dick inside of."

"That's still fucking gross Elliot," she says, clearly pissed off. But God help me, pissed off Ana is my favorite version. She's so utterly sexy when she's angry.

"I'll make it up to you tonight," I grin cheekily, knowing my smile usually gets me out of most the the female trouble I find myself in. Well, that and my cock. And by the look on Ana's face, the smile ain't working.

I reach for a condom from my bedside drawer, tearing it open with my teeth and rolling it down over my erection. I grab her hips roughly, yanking her ass to the edge of the bed to meet my waiting cock. Jesus, she's got sexy hips. She's naturally thin, you can tell she doesn't have much in the way of muscle. I like a girl with curves, and though Ana is a pretty tiny little thing, she has a decent rack and a nice little flare to her hips. I liked the idea of tossing her tiny little ass around.

I rub my cock over her clit, watching her relax back a little, her arms stretching up over her head so her breasts jut forward. I see her hips rise, attempting to meet my dick, but I'm enjoying teasing her. I'm used to sex with no preamble, but this is actually fun.

Finally, she gets fed up and her eyes snap to me. "Oh my God, Elliot, just fuck me already!"

I don't need to be told twice. I slam into her, my hands on her hips yanking her back onto me so I go as deep as I possibly can. I hear her breath catch in her throat, watching her eyes roll back in her head and her jaw go slack. I give her no time to recover, and instead just start pummeling her pussy with everything I have. She's clawing at the sheets underneath her, moaning loudly as I continue my vigorous pace. I can feel the sweat already beading on my forehead, my body turning slick with exertion as I fuck her mercilessly.

I pull back a little, running my hands up her soft legs, from ankle to thigh, where I take hold of both of them and press her knees toward her chest. I fuck her so hard all she can manage is stilted little noises from the back of her throat, her pussy gripping me so tightly that I'm almost positive she's never been treated to a cock this thick before and I'm stretching her to new limits.

I pull back some, freeing her legs so I can get to her tits with my mouth, I feel her legs latch around my waist, her fingernails digging into my shoulders and back.

"Jesus, Elliot," she moans, her chest rising with my mouth on her tit, her hands moving to my hair as I tug her nipple with my teeth,. My name on her lips like that is what I've been waiting for since the moment I laid eyes on her. I can feel her hips rolling against mine, grinding, making this all the more gratifying for both of us. I know in that moment I need to see her on top of me. Grabbing tightly to her hips, I rolls us, watching her veil of hair fall around her shoulders, her breasts bouncing, her eyelids hooded as she looks down at me. God, she's so insanely sexy.

"Tell me how much you want me to fuck you," she says, her voice thick and sultry.

I groan- loudly. Fuck, that was so hot. "Badly. I can't remember ever wanting anyone to fuck me so badly," I tell her honestly.

Her hands move up into her hair, pulling up and tangling around in the brunette mess. I can feel her wet pussy resting on my lower belly, just out of reach of the tip of my cock. Her hands skim back down her neck to her breasts, to her belly, before they fall to my chest as she raises her hips, catching the tip of my dick perfectly with her body and dropping her back down on me with such swift force that I have to clench my entire body in order to quell the desire to come. She doesn't give me a break though, her pace is as relentless as mine was. I can't keep my hands off her as she fucks me. I find myself wishing I had more hands just so I could touch her everywhere at once.

I decide I want to watch her come like this, hovering over me, riding my cock like her life depends on it. I reach between us, finding her clit with my thumb and rubbing quick circles against it in order to speed up the process. Truthfully, I don't know how much longer I'm going to last and I really want to come on her ass, so I need her to come first so I can bend her over.

The ends of her long hair are sticking together as they get wet with the sweat slicking her body. Her thighs are likely burning, and I pray to God I get to see her walk uncomfortably tomorrow. Her movements become shaky as I watch her start to be overcome by her impending orgasm, so I stop working her clit and instead grab her hips, helping to slam her back down onto me as I thrust up to fuck her harder.

"Oh God," she squeals, her voice high, and I remember my demand to make her yell. I grip her hips tighter, so tight that I consider the fact that she might actually bruise from it. I'm slamming her onto my cock so hard, and suddenly the floodgates open and she's finally _screaming_ for me. "Fuck! Oh my God. Elliot!" Fuck, yes.

"Come on Ana. Give it to me. Come on my cock, I want to feel it," I manage to grunt, and it seems to do the trick, because she throws her head back and digs her nails into my chest as her pussy seizes up so tightly I almost blow my load.

I don't give her any time to recover though, since I'm barely holding back myself, so I toss her onto the bed next to me and slam back into her from behind as I lay a semi-hard smack to her perfect round ass.

"Fuck!" she screams, her body seizing again, and I'm awestruck. Did she just come again? Holy shit…

I slam through her second orgasm and she's shaking and moaning beneath me, bringing myself to the razor's edge of coming before I pull out and tear off the condom. A few quick strokes is all it takes and I feel the dam break, watching as the thick jets of cum shoot out all over her ass and lower back. I groan loudly at the sight of Ana Steele on her hands and knees on my bed, the red handprint on her ass contrasting nicely with the streaks of white cum. I slap my dick against her a few times before finally my body gives in to the swirling exhaustions and endorphins and I collapse on my back next to her. I watch her legs slowly slide out from underneath her as she stretches out on her belly, face down on the bed, still panting heavily.

I am absolutely one hundred percent satiated right now.

"Jesus you have some magical pussy Ana," I managed to say, and I hear her let out a little laugh, muffled by the bed, which makes me laugh too. She turns her head, and her big blue eyes meet mine. She really is very beautiful. Not just sexy, but legitimately beautiful.

We lay in silence, and I think I might have dozed for a minute, because the next thing I know I hear her shuffling around the room. I sit up and she's already back in her bra and underwear, shaking out her jeans so she can start putting them on too.

"I can take you home," I say, causing her to look back at me with an easy smile.

"It's fine. I can call a cab or uber or something," she says. "Better to not risk getting seen together anyway."

I nod. That's true. I'm sure neither of us wants to deal with Kate if she ever found out about this. I watch lazily from my bed as she pulls her shirt over her head. She gets on her phone, and I think she's requesting her ride, but then I wonder if maybe she's texting Christian again. I still don't understand exactly how this evening ended up the way it did. Not that I'm complaining, but I just don't get it.

"Not that I'm not happy you called, Ana. But why did you call? Why are you here with me instead of with my brother, on the night you agreed to be his girlfriend? I find it very odd that you didn't spend your first official night as a couple together, let alone the fact that you spent it with me."

She finishes up on her phone for a few seconds, then sets it down and looks back at me, assessing me, like she's trying to decide what she wants to tell me, if she can trust me. I see hesitance in her eyes.

I sit up, grabbing my boxers off the floor and talk as I pull them on. "I already fucked you Ana. You've been his girlfriend for less than a day. I've been his brother since he was four. If one of us has more to lose here, it's me. You can walk away from him and disappear, I can't. I'd have to answer to my entire family if they found out about this. You can trust me. I'm not the one with the upper hand."

She seems to debate this for a moment, before finally she sighs, taking a seat on the bed. "Your brother hurt Leila," she says, her voice low.

" _Hurt_ her? How? Like, beat her?" I ask, confused. I thought Leila tried to kill herself.

"He hurt her physically, yes, but also psychologically. He's the reason she tried to kill herself."

"But he's never had a girlfriend before."

"She wasn't his girlfriend. They had a different… arrangement. There's a lot you don't know about your brother."

Well I already knew that. "What kind of arrangement?"

"It's too much to get into right now. My ride will be here soon. And it's not important anyway. What is important, is that he used his power over her, used his influence over her mind and the fact that she loved him to manipulate and abuse her, to destroy her. He did it on purpose, and then tossed her aside like a piece of trash. She's my best friend, and he hurt her. _Really_ **hurt** her."

"Okay," I say, still confused and reeling from this revelation. "So then why do you want to be with him?"

"I don't," she says, vehemently. "I want to destroy him like he destroyed her."

"And you're going to do that… how?" This shit is bananas.

"I knew about him and her that night at the bar, the night Leila hurt herself. I already knew what he'd done to her, and I hated him for it, but then when I found out it led to her trying to commit suicide, that I could have lost her because of what he did to her? I wanted to hurt him for hurting her, but I'm a broke, unemployed post-grad college student with nothing. How could I possibly do anything to affect _the_ Christian Grey?" She shakes her head in frustration and disgust. "But he called me. He got my number, I thought maybe from you?" She looks at me, but I shake my head no. I never gave it to him. He never asked, and I wouldn't have even if he did. She shrugs. "Well, he got it, and he called me and asked me out. And I thought- this is it. This is the only chance I have at making him pay for what he did. If I could make him fall in love with me, I could crush his heart the way he crushed Leila's. It's a long shot, but it's my only real chance at getting payback for what he did to her."

Wow. I mean- wow! That's some fucking crazy shit! I can't believe it. Christian- I can't believe he's been with other girls, or that he would toy with them mentally like that, let alone actually hurt them physically. He's an even worse person than I thought he was, and I already thought very lowly of that asshole. And Ana? Who knew she had such a vindictive streak? Not to say I blame her. I know how close she and Leila are. I actually kind of admire how protective she is of her best friend. Enough to go after the most powerful man in Seattle. Hell, one of the most powerful men in the country. It's… admirable. And kind of sexy.

Then it hits me.

"Is that why you're here?"

She looks at me kind of guiltily. Well fuck.

"I'm sorry, Elliot. It's nothing against you. It's just, Kate really pissed me off when I got home from my date with Christian. She had that guy over and she was going on and on about you and her. How she's a Kavanagh and you're a Grey and eventually you'll pull your head out of your ass and be together for real. 'Money marries money, Ana,'" she mocks Kate's snotty tone perfectly. "And then she insulted me, saying eventually Christian will dump me to marry someone who is actually in his social class and I just- fuck! I was so pissed off at her for being such a royal bitch, and then I remembered your offer to call, and you're Christian's _brother_ for Christ's sake, and it just seemed too perfect an opportunity to pass up, to be able to say 'fuck you' to both of them at the same time."

I mull over what she just blurted out at me. Does it bother me? No, it doesn't. I think it's hilarious that Kate thinks one day I will settle down with her. Never going to fucking happen. I could give two shits about society's expectations for who I marry. I don't know if I ever will get married, but if I do, it will be to someone who is sweet and funny. Not someone who happened to be born into a family with enough money to rival my parents. And as for the whole Christian aspect of it? Well, as much as I've always wanted to fuck Ana, I admit it made it that much hotter to do it knowing she was his. If I can fuck her and get off on the idea of it besting him, then why can't she fuck me thinking the same? In fact, Ana not having feelings for Christian at all just makes this all the better. He deserves to be put in his place for once, and that's exactly what Ana is trying to do. So do I mind that she's masterminding a plan to fuck him over? Nope. Not at all. In fact, I can probably offer her some help, knowing some of the details of the ins and outs of his life better than most.

And… I can keep fucking her.

I smile at the thought, and that's when I realize she's still staring at me, waiting for my reaction. Which, by the look on her face, she wasn't expecting a smile.

"Well, if riding my cock helps you take down my brother, I'm willing to make that sacrifice."

She rolls her eyes, but I think I see a hint of a smile. "So you don't mind? It doesn't bother you? All the plans I have, or why I slept with you?"

I shrug. "Nah. The way I figure it, I likely would have been willing to fuck you even if Christian was the best person in the world. But as it turns out, he's a complete tool, and I'm happy to know there's someone else out there who sees him for what he really is. He deserves to be brought down. And I'm happy to offer you any assistance you need. Even if that only means being a revenge fuck that he never knows about."

She laughs, and I can't get over how much I like making her laugh. She honestly normally treats me like a pesky fly that won't leave her alone. And I know that's my fault, since I've spent most of our rare moments together over the months hitting on her. I've seen her laugh and be relaxed and easy with Kate and Leila, but never with me. And I have to say, I like bringing out this side of her.

She announces the arrival of her ride, and gives me a friendly wave before she turns and walks out my bedroom door. I fall back onto my bed, which still reeks of her and us together, and I easily fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ana POV:**

I'm lying on my back in the middle of the living room floor panting. My legs, ass, and abs are burning. The 30 Day Butt Challenge DVD Kate bought last week is playing relaxing music as it graciously gives us a few seconds break from the grueling pace it's set.

"I can't do this anymore." Kate whines, rolling over to empty what used to be a full wine glass.

"Only ten more minutes, Kate." I encourage her. It's been a little awkward between the two of us over the past few days. She's been trying to be extra nice to me to make up for the awful things she said during our fight, but every small, uncharacteristically kind thing she does makes me feel like shit. Especially since, the first day she got this DVD and asked me to do it with her, I could hardly do anything at all because I was still too sore from being with the guy she's into the night before.

She pours herself another glass of wine, but then groans as the perky blonde on the screen tells us to get ready for round two. She lays back down next to me and we both spread our hands over the carpet, bend our knees, and begin to raise our butts into the air. We get all the way through the first three sets when the door opens, and I hear heavy footfalls over the stone floor in the entryway before seeing Elliot's face through the arch to the living room. He looks down at us and then smiles.

"Hey ladies, what's going on?" He asks, and there is a little more than just a hint of suggestion beneath his tone when he looks down at us essentially humping the air.

"Elliot!" Kate gasps, scrambling to her feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I uh… I came to apologize to you, Katie. I haven't been fair to you and, well, I've missed you."

"Really?" She replies, trying to hold back the sentimental smile that automatically creeps over her lips.

"Yeah. Take me back?" He asks. They look at each other for a moment and then she holds her arms open and closes the space between them in three quick, long strides. He pulls her into his chest, hugging her tightly, but then very purposefully looks at me over her shoulder and winks. I roll my eyes and then collapse back onto the floor to finish the workout still in progress. Kate wraps her hand around Elliot's and drags him back down the hall with her. Before he disappears though, he cranes his neck back to get one last look at me doing butt lifts on the floor.

Once I hear the two of them going at it, I get off the ground, turn off the TV, and pick up Kate's glass and bottle of wine off the coffee table. It's fairly late in the evening and she's almost polished the bottle off herself, so rather than put it back in the fridge, I simply empty the bottle into a clean wine glass and then take it with me back to my room where I decide it's time to do the thing I've been dreading all day.

I pick up my phone and quickly find my mom's number in my contacts list and make the call. It rings enough times for me to lose count and I figure it's probably going to go to voicemail, but she answers at the last second.

"Ana!" She cries merrily, but I can tell just from the tone of her voice that she's loaded.

"Hey Mom, I hope I didn't wake you."

"Of course not dear, the night is young! We're celebrating!"

"Celebrating what?"

"Oh, I don't know… there has to be something in the world to celebrate right? Besides, Bob brought home champagne which we both know means that he's planning on getting a little something between the sheets later so I'd better be prepared." She laughs, and I take a deep, bracing breath.

"Great, Mom." I say dismissively. "Look, I was just calling to find out if I should get a ticket down to Georgia for Thanksgiving. It's only a couple of weeks away, and I've been saving but they get more expensive the longer you wait."

"Oh, Ana. Sweetheart. I'm sorry, but Bob and I are taking a little trip down to Green Turtle Cay for Thanksgiving. It's going to be fantastic! We've reserved this gorgeous beachfront house that we'll have, just the two of us, and he's arranged for us to go snorkeling out on the reef."

"Oh." I say, feeling a small pang of disappointment that I immediately want to smack myself for. Honestly, I don't know why I would have expected anything different… It's the same thing year after year, holiday after holiday, and has been since she skipped town when I was 16 and I had to legally file for emancipation so that I could go to the doctor when I needed to or sign legal documents for myself. When she met this husband, it looked like she was finally going to settle down and we were going to be able to have a relationship again, but that seems to have passed now, and I honestly don't even know why I try anymore. "Well, I hope you both have a great time."

"Thank you, dear. Now, I've got to go. Call me later in the week, okay? We can talk about you."

"Sure, Mom." I say, very doubtful that she would spend even ten minutes of her valuable time considering me and what I've been up to. She sends me a check every month, supplied by her new rich husband. That's her contribution to my life, and she seems to be okay with that. I'd give anything to have a relationship with her the way Leila has a relationship with Kathy… but my mom's interests lie in shopping, vacations, alcohol, and sex. Not in me.

I tell her good-bye and try to blink the tears out of my eyes, once again feeling stupid for getting my hopes up. As I lay there, trying to convince myself that it's not getting to me as much as I know it is, I feel my phone vibrate in my hand. I look down and see Christian's name flash across the screen.

 _Great._

"Hello?" I answer.

"Good evening, Anastasia." He says softly. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"I'm… missing you actually. I met with the directors of a business my company is acquiring today and it was probably one of the least productive meetings I've had in awhile. I couldn't stop thinking about you. Actually, it's been like that all week for me. I can't seem to get you out of my head."

I take a deep breath, cursing the feeling of warmth that courses through me at his words. After the conversation I just had with my mother, this is exactly what I need to hear right now. That someone wants me. That someone is thinking about me. That someone cares that I exist. I just don't understand why it's coming from Christian Grey.

I've spent the entirety of last week trying to reconcile our date and this new relationship in my head. Why it is that he's so kind and sweet and romantic with me, but was so brutal and vicious towards Leila? I wish I could talk to her, find out if this is what it was like between the two of them in the beginning. Maybe this is how he got his hooks into her so deep. There's no denying the guy is as charming as he is heart stoppingly beautiful. He always seems to know exactly what to say. Which, I suppose, could be how he gets women to do whatever it is he wants, even when what he wants is to beat them.

"Ana? Did I lose you?" Christian asks.

"No, I'm here." I say quickly. "I'm sorry, I just got off the phone with my mom and it wasn't a great conversation. I miss you too. I wish… I wish you were here now."

"Do you need me to be?" He asks and suddenly my body tenses with nervous energy. It was a bluff. A cool lie to try and play the part of the all too willing girlfriend. I hadn't expected him to take me up on it and, now that he's offered, part of me does kind of want to see him. The truth is, I feel… ugh, I feel good when I'm around him, and that's exactly what I need right now. But, I'm still not fully psyched up to have sex with him yet. My cheeks heat as the embarrassing memory from earlier in the week, when I had pulled a belt from my closet and hit myself, hard, across the leg with it several times to see if I could take the pain, crosses my mind. I couldn't. If I don't let him come over here, I still have 24 hours to prepare myself for sex. If he comes over here now, well…

"You're very sweet, but I'm tired." I say into the phone, and I hear him exhale slowly, probably with irritation, as I rebuff him again. Fuck, I need to figure this whole BDSM thing out... He's going to lose interest if I don't do it soon and I know I'm pushing it. I can't let this all be for nothing.

"Tomorrow." I say, hoping the promise is implicit in my voice. "Tomorrow night, I'm all yours."

"I can't wait." He says. "How are you getting here tomorrow?"

"Kate is going to let me use her car. She's going out of town for the weekend with her parents so she won't need it."

"Good. And, you know how to get here?"

"That giant, beautiful building in the middle of the city with the word Escala printed on top? I think it's a little hard to miss." I say, laughing as I do so that he doesn't take what I've said the wrong way.

"Fair point." He says with a chuckle. "I'll email you later tonight with the code to the parking garage and the elevator. I have several spaces reserved so I'll make sure one is open for you."

"I'll keep an eye out." I promise.

"Oh, and I wanted to let you know that I had my staff search _The Grace_ high and low. I'm trying everything I can, but… I haven't been able to find your necklace yet."

My breath catches with shock. _He's been looking?_ "You have?"

"Of course I have. Seeing the way you were when you lost it really gutted me, Anastasia. I never want to see you upset like that. I'd do anything to be able to give it back to you."

I'm nearly speechless. "Christian… I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"Of course. Now, get some sleep. Until tomorrow, Miss Steele."

"Until tomorrow, Mr. Grey." I repeat.

"Goodnight." He hangs up and I let out a long drawn out breath as I drop the phone onto the bed and cover my face with the pillow so I don't have to listen to Kate and Elliot from the other room. The pillow isn't enough to muffle the sound though, so I decide to hop in the shower and wash away the sweat from my workout earlier. It works because by the time I step out of the tub and into the steam filling the bathroom, I can't hear anything from down the hall.

After my hair is dried, my teeth brushed, and I'm dressed again, I head back out into my bedroom and pick up my phone again. I've missed a call from Leila's dad. _Oh no…_

Immediately, I pick up the phone and call him back, waiting anxiously as each ring seems to make my gut clench tighter with trepidation.

"Hey, Ana." Phil answers.

"Hi, what's wrong? What's happened?" I ask quickly.

"Whoa. Nothing's happened, Ana. I was just calling to check on you and see how you were doing. You haven't called us this week and that's not like you."

"Oh…" I say, and then I feel a rush of gratitude at the gesture. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it'd been so long since I called. I'm doing fine, how are you and Kathy?"

"Oh, same ol', same ol'." He says. "Have you made any plans for the holiday?"

"Actually…" I hesitate, and Phil picks up on it immediately.

"What happened, Ana?" He asks, concerned, so I take a bracing breath and continue.

"Well, I called my mom tonight, asking if I should make arrangements to go out to Georgia to spend Thanksgiving with her, but she told me she's made plans to go on vacation with Bob. I don't know, I guess I should have expected it. It's really not that big of a deal. Maybe I can tag along with Kate or something…"

"I'm sorry, Ana. I just don't know what goes through your mother's head sometimes. But, you know that both Kathy and I would just love it if you came over here and spent the day with us. We're going to be missing Leila at the Thanksgiving table for the first time since she's been born and having you here, I think would make us both feel a lot better about it."

"Really?" I ask.

"Of course, sweetheart. You know you're always welcome here."

I smile and feel tears begin to well in my eyes again. I really don't know what I ever did to deserve a friend as wonderful as Leila has always been to me, and her family on top of that is just… it's really unbelievable sometimes.

"I'd love to come." I tell him. "What can I bring?"

"Oh you don't worry about anything…" He says, "Unless you happened to have a deep desire to bake one of your famous pumpkin pies. Because if you did, I wouldn't want to hold you back."

I laugh. "Pumpkin pie it is. I'll even bake two so I can leave one there, just for you."

"If you insist." He says good humoredly. "I also wanted to tell you that we spoke to the doctor at the psychiatric ward yesterday about Leila's progress and he thinks she might be ready for some visitors. Not too many mind you, I wouldn't want Kate to go yet, but you're her best friend and she's been asking about you."

"Really?" I say hopefully.

"Really. She has some time on Saturday afternoon, if you're able to make it."

"Of course." I assure him. "Just give me a time."

"How about 2 o'clock? She's got therapy until about 1:30 and that will give her some time to go back to her room and relax a little before she gets all excited again."

"I'll be there." I promise, and he gives me the details of where to go and who to talk to before he tells me he's got to get going. I thank him again for calling and for the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner and then hang up the phone.

Relief washes over me. If Leila is finally up to having someone other than her parents come and visit her, it must mean she's had some kind of break through. The last time I saw her she was completely out of it and looked so broken down. Phil told me that not long after I'd left, she'd had a complete meltdown out of nowhere and it's just all gone downhill since. Maybe on Saturday, I'll finally get a real glimpse of my best friend again and I'll be able to push the haunting memories of her in that hospital bed aside once and for all.

Suddenly, I freeze. _Saturday?_

Fuck, I'm going to be with Christian on Saturday.

Well, maybe. I'm supposed to spend the night Friday night and that's really the main event, so maybe by 2 o'clock I'll be able to slip away. I bite down on my lip as I ponder this but ultimately decide that no matter what, I have to go see Leila. I'll figure out how to make that happen when the time comes.

"Hey." A voice says behind me, making me jump, and I turn to see Elliot standing in my doorway. His hair is wet and he's only wearing a towel fastened securely around his waist so he must have just gotten out of the shower too.

"Elliot, what are you doing?" I say, looking down the hall through the door behind him with panic. "If Kate sees you..."

"She's asleep." He says. "Don't worry, I tired her out pretty good."

I roll my eyes as he turns to close and lock my bedroom door behind him, and then faces me again, holding my gaze as he reaches for the towel and gently pulls on it so that if falls to the floor. He's standing in front of me, completely naked, and I narrow my eyes at him.

"If you think I'm going to fuck you after you just had Kate, you're out of your god damned mind." I hiss at him, trying to keep my voice low in case Kate wakes up.

"The idea crossed my mind." He says, grinning and stalking towards me. "Why haven't you called me this week, Ana?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes. "I mean, we had a good time last weekend. You said you wanted me in on your little destroy Christian plan, why haven't you called me? I've felt like a needy chick waiting by the phone for you all week."

I raise an eyebrow and then turn away from him so that I can sit crossed legged on my bed. "I'm sorry, that must have been terrible for you." I tell him. "I wonder how many girls have done the same for you?"

"Oh come on, Ana. Don't compare what I did with all those other girls to what is going on between us. You have to know that what we had last weekend wasn't just run of the mill sex. There's something here, something… _different_. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all week. I have to have you again."

"You just fucked my roommate, Elliot." I say pointedly.

"I took a shower." He argues, "Besides, I came here tonight to make up with Kate only so that I would have an excuse to be around you. I had sex with her because I'm expected to have sex with her. Same as you and Christian tomorrow night. It doesn't mean we care about them, right?"

"How did you know about…"

"Well, that's the other reason I'm here." He says. "I was asked to deliver a message to you."

"A message?"

"Christian called me this afternoon. He asked if I was going to see you before you go over to his apartment tomorrow. I told him maybe, and he gave me a whole list of things he wanted me to say to you about him."

I raise an incredulous eyebrow. "He wanted you to talk him up?"

"Apparently, you turning him down last weekend did a number on his ego, Ana." He says, smiling in an overly pleased kind of way. "It's never happened before."

"So what did he want you to say?" I ask. He saunters towards the bed, climbing on top of it and then crawling towards me like a jungle cat. I feel my body tense as I see the hungry way he's looking at me, and when his lips make contact with mine and his tongue thrusts past my lips in the fierce, possessive way I've come to expect, he pushes me back into the pillows.

"Are you ready?" He asks, but the feel of him pressing into me and the aggressive way his mouth moves with mine has clouded my mind and I've forgotten what we're talking about.

"Ready for what?" I ask, panting as I reach up into his hair. His erection presses against my shorts and I moan quietly.

"For what I'm supposed to tell you." He says. His hands move down to the elastic waistband around my bottoms and he slowly begins to ease them down.

"Oh, what?"

He smiles against my lips as he divests me of my shorts and then his fingers slip under my panties in search of my clitoris.

"So, I hear you're going on a date with my brother again." He says and I moan as his finger sinks into me.

"Yes." I whisper.

"He's a good guy." He says, his voice flat as though he's reading from a script. "I really admire him."

"You do?" I laugh, but my laugh is cut off by a moan as he slips another finger into me and slowly eases them in and out.

"Oh yes." Elliot continues. "He's smart, you know. And there doesn't seem to be anything he can't do if he puts his mind to it."

"Really?"

"Mhm." Elliot mumbles, closing his eyes and running his tongue over his bottom lip as he concentrates on the feel of me around his fingers. "But most importantly, he's always been there for me. There's no one in this world that I'd trust more. People think of him as cold and impersonal, but they don't know him. He's got a big heart. I just think he needs to find the right girl."

I look down at him with disbelief. "He told you to say that?"

"Yep." Elliot groans. "And now I have. Let me have your pussy again, Anastasia."

He pushes his fingers forward again, as deeply as he can, and I moan, but he silences me with another kiss. All sense of self control is out the window as I lose myself in the feeling of him on my lips, inside of me, on top of me. He's everywhere, and yet, I'm still not experiencing nearly enough of him.

"There are condoms in my drawer." I whisper, and the second the words are out of my mouth, he reaches for my bedside table and roughly yanks the drawer open.

 **Christian POV:**

I hang up the phone with Anastasia, feeling a slight twinge of frustration at my offer to go to her tonight. Not because she rebuffed me, of course she did, it came off as desperate, but because I made it at all.

 _I do not chase women_.

Really, it's just been too long since I've fucked a woman. Leila was what…? Five weeks ago now? Six maybe? Either way, entirely too long. Miss Steele has proved harder to crack than I would have anticipated, I've never had trouble like this before. But there's excitement in it too. The thrill of the chase. It'll make breaking her in all the more satisfying. A true conquest.

I close my Macbook and stand from my desk, feeling the ache of the long hours sitting here in my muscles. I've been working too hard, too much, over the past few weeks and while GEH is thriving, I'm beginning to find my days monotonous. Boredom is never good for me, and definitely never good for my submissives. And since Anastasia is not yet a submissive, it's probably a good idea for me to work some of this stress out before I have her in my bed tomorrow night.

I stretch slightly and then walk from my office, stopping at Taylor's door on my way upstairs.

"Taylor." I say to call his attention and he immediately looks up at me. "I'm expecting company. I'll be in my playroom, send them straight up to me."

"Yes, sir." Taylor replies quickly. I nod and then continue on towards the stairs. Once I'm inside the comforting red room, I strip out of my jacket and pull the tie already hanging loosely around my neck the rest of the way off. It doesn't give me the sense of freedom I'm seeking though, so quickly I remove the rest of my clothes, except my pants. Once I'm undressed, I walk purposefully forward to the wall where my favorite instruments hang. Canes, whips, cats, floggers, crops, belts… everything I need to reach the peak of my sexual desires.

I might not be able to punish Anastasia for denying me, but I've kept a running tally of each and every one of her discretions so far. Refusing my advances, twice, rolling her eyes at me, three times, and that quippy little scoff she lets out every now and then… Yes, I think that will be rebutted with the sweet sting of a belt.

My breath hisses through my teeth at the thought and my body reacts instinctively, my cock stirring awake. I pull the belt off the wall and then turn to face my room, examining each piece of furniture individually as I let my fantasies swim through my mind. The whipping bench has always been a favorite, but it's too recently used. I'm also fond of the sawhorse and the St. Andrew's Cross, but neither are ideal for whipping punishments. I could lay her over the bed, tie her hands to the posts so she can't move away… Yes. Yes, that would do nicely.

I move to the bed and picture her there, bend over the side with her arms stretched out in front of her, tied to a post on the other side. Her ass, which I spent a great deal of time focusing on when I had her on _The Grace_ last weekend, naked and on display for me, begging to be lashed. I grip the belt tightly in my hand, and with a hard, swift motion, crack it against the side of the mattress. The sound is cathartic, almost healing, and sends a comforting sense of relief through my muscles. I wield it again, and again, perhaps using more force than I could if I were hitting an actual human, but also reveling in the idea that I could. I wonder how much pain little Miss Steele can take? It's a limit I'm going to test, to push… _Oh god, I hope she's a crier_.

"Having fun?" A voice asks behind me, and I turn to see Elena Lincoln standing in the doorway of the playroom, raising an eyebrow at me in amusement.

"Practice makes perfect." I reply, and she smirks, shaking her head a little as she steps into the room and closes the door behind her. "Did you bring what I asked?"

"Yes…" She says hesitantly, but as I hold my hand out for it, she purses her lips and steps back out of my reach. "Can I ask what you intend to use if for?" She asks.

"Anastasia can be a little… hesitant. It's simply a backup plan." I reply shortly and she frowns. "I'm joking, Elena." I reassure her. "You know I'm more careful than that. People have seen me with her."

"So… they're not for this new girl then?" Elena asks.

"No, they're not for _her_." I say. "They're for someone else."

"Christian, look… far be it for me to-"

"Oh cut the shit, Elena." I interrupt her. "You know exactly what this for and you brought it anyway. I don't have time to play _moral dilemma_ with you. Just give it to me and be on your way."

She sighs, reaches into her purse, and pulls out an envelope. I take it from her and look inside, counting each of the small blue tablets individually before nodding and tucking the envelope into the pocket of my pants.

"Thank you." I say abruptly and then turn back to the bed to begin to swing again.

"Can I be… frank with you, Christian?" Elena asks.

"You usually do as you please." I reply.

"I'm concerned. This girl that you've found, she's… well, she isn't like us. She's never been in the lifestyle and, well, to be blunt, it takes a certain amount of experience to deal with a dom of your caliber. I'm afraid you're going to be… too much for her."

"I'm counting on that." I say flatly and she inhales sharply.

"Christian. You know I've always been on your side, always been willing to help satisfy some of your… darker tendencies, but it's always been with willing participants. What you're doing now… well, it goes beyond the pale. You're not practicing safe BDSM anymore, you're… abusing young women."

I let out a humorless laugh. "You're going to lecture me on the line between BDSM and abuse? Tell me, how concerned were you with that line when you fucked me when I was fifteen?"

"That was different…" She hesitates, her confidence deflating a little as I pull my weightiest trump card. "Young as you may have been you were always a willing participant. This girl has no idea what she's consenting to."

"Then she won't say no." I say darkly. "You may go, Elena. I'm tired of this conversation."

"Fine." She says. Her mouth forms a tight line as she turns to leave, but before she reaches the door, I toss the belt onto the bed and then turn to her once more.

"Wait." I call for her, and she stops to face me again. "There's one more thing I want you to do for me."

"And what is that, Christian?" She snaps.

"I need you to get a delivery to Leila Williams for me."

"A delivery? What for? You ended your contract over a month ago and sent that poor girl to a mental institution."

"Because I haven't gotten laid in six weeks and I'm bored." I tell her, dryly. I stalk across the room and out the door in front of her. She follows in my wake, but I ask her to wait in the living room for me, rather than to follow me into my office. There is a silk flower sitting on the edge of my desk and when I pick it up, I take a second to examine it, smiling at the simplicity of it, before finishing the project and then returning to Elena.

"A fake flower?" She asks, confused, as I hold out the flower for her. "You're sending her a fake flower?"

"No, you're sending her a fake flower." I reply. "Mixed into a bouquet of real flowers of course. Find a match, slip this into the center, and send it to her."

"Would you like a card?" She asks, slightly sarcastic as she clearly thinks whatever I'm doing is both a waste of time and stupid. The corner of my mouth turns up into a half smile and I reach into my pocket for the scrap piece of paper I've already composed a message on. She reads it, rolls her eyes, but then slips the note into her purse.

"Anything else?" She asks.

"That should do it. Thank you, Elena."

She nods and then turns to leave but once again, when she get to the entrance of the foyer, she stops. "You know, if you're really this anxious to work out some of your stress… I wouldn't be opposed to stepping into the red room with you. If memory serves, you do have an undeniable skill set that is difficult to find in the community."

"I have a girlfriend, Elena." I say dismissively. "Isn't anything sacred to you?"

"My apologies, Christian." She says. "I've forgotten how old fashioned you were."


	10. Chapter 10

**Ana POV**

I take a long, deep breath as I stare at the number over the elevator door creeping steadily higher with trepidation. There are 31 floors between the parking garage and Christian's penthouse apartment and I savor each one as it passes, clinging to them as though I'm desperately trying to hold onto the pre-BDSM innocence.

"You can always safe word, Anastasia." I whisper under my breath. I'd read the entire Wikipedia page on BDSM this morning and even clicked on a few of the source links to fully prepare myself for what's about to happen. My research was useful, but not exactly comforting. The only thing that gave me enough courage to leave my apartment tonight was the parts I read about safe wording. If he crosses a line, or does anything I don't like… I should be able to stop him.

 _But did he stop for Leila?_

I swallow the lump in my throat, hoping to god that wasn't the case… that he didn't ignore her. But I also have a hard time believing Leila would willingly let him do what he did.

I jump a little as the high ping that announces my arrival on the 30th floor reverberates through the elevator, and then take one last steadying breath as the doors open. I'm released into a grand foyer with high ceilings and marble floors. It's beautiful, clearly decorated professionally with no expense spared, and I actually feel some of the fear in the pit of my stomach recede as I stare, awestruck, at a particularly striking piece of art hanging on the back wall.

"Miss Steele?" An unfamiliar voice greets me and I turn to see a man with a severe buzz cut in a perfectly tailored suit staring curiously at me.

"Uh… yes." I stutter and he smiles.

"Welcome. Mr. Grey is waiting for you in the great room." He gestures with his arm to the high archway on the right side of the room and I nod gratefully towards him as I step out of the foyer. This room is also stunningly beautiful, huge, open, and completely surrounded by floor to ceiling length windows that offer an exquisite panoramic view of downtown Seattle and the sound. I glance around and see Christian standing in the dining room off to the left, pouring wine into a glass, while a woman who looks to be in her late thirties or early forties lights the candlesticks surrounding an arrangement of peach colored roses.

"Christian?" I call uncertainly. He looks up, and when he sees me, he smiles, sets down the bottle of wine, and walks briskly towards me. He says nothing to me before he reaches out to tenderly cup each side of my face and pulls my lips to his. Warmth immediately begins to flow through my body, as though his tender, gentle kiss is a soothing balm that calms away the last of my nerves. _He's so good at this._ Whenever he kisses me, it's like my head gets clouded and I forget for a minute how much I hate him. I feel myself melting into him, succumbing to his tongue and his lips, and feel a fleeting sense of contentment at the low moan he pushes into my mouth.

"Hi." He says when he eventually pulls away.

"Hi." I breathe back, still a little stunned from his kiss.

"Dinner is almost ready. Perhaps while we wait, I could give you a tour?" I nod and he takes my hand and leads me back through the great room.

I'm surprised by the size of the apartment. Generally, when you think of the word apartment, you think of a small compact living space with thin walls, but this place is bigger than any house I've ever been in. There's an upstairs and a downstairs and two different wings, one of which he tells me is for his staff. As we walk through the downstairs, he leads me to his office, a library (which I wish we could have spent more time in), a game room, a movie theater, a wine cellar (or whatever you call an above ground wine room), and a home gym.

"The master bedroom is back there." He says, gesturing down the hallway before directing me to the stairs. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You mean, I can't see your bedroom?" I ask, and he smirks.

"You'll see it later." He assures me, and I let out a slightly nervous laugh, look away from him, and shake my head slightly as I make my way towards the stairs.

For the most part, the upstairs is just bedrooms. He leads me through six different guest rooms, each more elaborately decorated than a suite in a 5 star hotel would be. There are an equal number of bathrooms, one of which I think might even be bigger than my bedroom, and a sauna towards the back of the apartment.

"What's this room?" I ask, as we walk past a closed door without any explanation. He turns to face me and smiles as he gently brushes a strand of hair away from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

"Another time." He says, "Dinner should be ready for us. Come."

He wraps his hand around mine again and I follow after him willingly, but turn to look at the closed door over my shoulder, wondering what he has hidden inside. When we get back downstairs to the dining room, he pulls out my chair for me and then takes the seat on the opposite side of the table. The moment we're seated, the woman I saw lighting candles when I walked in appears and places a bowl of pale yellow, creamy soup in front of Christian and then me.

"What is this?" Christian asks offhandedly as he picks up his spoon.

"Potage de champagne au Brie." She answers, "Brie and Champagne soup."

Christian nods and the woman disappears as he dips his spoon into his bowl. I mirror him and then take a hesitant sip of the soup. I'm not particularly adventurous when it comes to food, I don't think I've ever even had brie before, so I don't know what to expect, but I'm pleased to find that I actually really like it.

"This is good." I say as I scoop up another mouthful and Christian smiles.

"Yes, Gail is an excellent cook. She's going through a French phase right now." He explains and I nod.

"I can see that. Lucky you." I say and he chuckles and then dips his spoon in his soup again. We're quiet for only a minute as we enjoy the food and the soft sounds of the music he has floating through the room. I glance over and see a beautiful grand piano sitting a few feet away at the edge of the living room, subtly gleaming in the flickering light from the candles on the table.

"Do you play?" I ask him, nodding to the piano. He looks up at me first, and then over to the piano, and a smile plays at the corner of his lips.

"Yes." He nods.

"Well?" I press him.

His smile broadens a little. "Yes."

I let out a small breathy laugh at the confident kind of arrogance that colors his expression and shake my head slightly. "Is there anything you can't do well?"

"I'm not a very good cook." He says. "Hence, why I have Gail. I don't play golf well, which doesn't help my case in all of the power negotiations that seem to always take place on the fairways. And, I can't whistle."

"You can't whistle?" I reply with exaggerated shock. "You poor man."

"I know." He nods, solemnly. "Sometimes, I'll be walking the street, having a great day and looking really sharp in my three piece suit, bowler hat, and monocle, and I want nothing more than be able to whistle a merry little ditty as I twirl my walking stick. But alas, I cannot."

I let out a genuine laugh at the image he paints and he smiles at me. There is a brief flash of something behind his eyes that is a little out of place, like he's been surprised by something.

"What?" I ask him, but he just shakes his head and looks back down at his soup as a way of pushing aside my concern. His gaze is still a little wary when he looks up at me again though.

"I like making you laugh." He says, though his voice makes it sound like more of an admission than a statement. "You're beautiful when you laugh."

I feel the blush creep into my cheeks and on cue, I let out a small, nervous giggle through my broadening smile.

"Thank you." I say in acknowledgement of his compliment and he smiles back at me until his attention is caught by a movement behind me.

"Your main course, Mr. Grey." Gail says, placing a plate in front of him and taking away his empty soup bowl in one fluid motion. She does the same for me and I look curiously down at what I think is a pork chop next to a small bed of arugula salad. I thank Christian's house keeper, who simply smiles back at me as she disappears back towards the kitchen, and then cut a small piece of the meat and pop it into my mouth. There is immediately something off about the taste. I don't think this is pork…

"What is this?" I ask Christian as I swallow the food in my mouth with a little difficulty.

"Veal." He responds and I have to hold back a gag. _Veal?_

I'm not a vegetarian by any means, nor would I consider myself a huge animal rights activist but… _veal?_

"Is something wrong?" Christian asks, and I look up at him, trying to shake away the disgust I feel at the baby animal currently resting on my plate.

"No." I say, trying to keep my tone casual. I take a breath and cut another bite out of the meat and hesitantly raise it to my mouth. I chew it quickly and try to swallow without actually tasting it, but it's impossible, so I quickly wash it down with my wine.

 _I'm not going to be able to eat this, and I don't want to…_

"So what did you do this week?" Christian asks, interrupting my internal hesitation.

"Uh…" I stutter, trying to think of something I did this week that didn't involve Elliot. There isn't much though. "Kate and I have been working out together a lot lately, trying to preemptively keep off the holiday weight, and I went whale watching down on Alki beach on Wednesday."

"Oh." He says, nodding his head slightly. "I haven't really spent much time in West Seattle but I hear the view from the beach is great. Elliot has a condo over there."

"Does he?" I ask, feigning surprise. It was actually Elliot who I went whale watching with. That is if seeing a whale from the window of his condo while we had sex counts as whale watching…

"Mmm." Christian mumbles, nodding his head as he eats. "But his building is a little small and the parking isn't great so he usually comes over here or over to my parents when we see each other. I've heard he spends a good deal of time at your apartment as well…"

"Yeah." I roll my eyes. "He and Kate are… well, they…"

"Fuck all the time." He finishes for me, and I smile and nod.

"All the time." I repeat emphatically. "I think he's at my apartment more than I am. He did have good things to say about you though."

"Oh really?" Christian asks.

"Yeah, he said you were a good guy. That he really admires you."

"Well, that means a lot." Christian says, clearly pleased. "Elliot is a good judge of character."

"I think so too." I tell him. I take another sip of wine as I set down my fork. I've finished with my salad and since I'm not going to eat the veal, I make excuses about not begin particularly hungry as I push my plate away. Christian seems slightly annoyed but doesn't say anything. Instead, he gets out of his seat and walks over to pour me another glass of wine.

"Thank you." I say, after I've taken a sip.

"You're welcome, Anastasia." He says. His fingers trace gently over my arms and even though I'm wearing a sweater, I feel goosebumps begin to rise in my skin. I turn to look at him and he slowly leans down to press his lips into mine, but after only a second or so, I hear a low vibrating sound and he pulls away to take his phone out of his pocket.

"I'm sorry, Ana. It's work… I have to take this. Please, make yourself at home. I shouldn't be long."

I nod and watch as he turns around and disappears down the hallway towards his office, leaving me alone in the great room. I sit, listening to the music and drinking my wine, knowing that the preamble for what this night is really about is quickly drawing to a close and hoping a little liquid courage will help get me through the rest of the evening. Gail appears after a while and begins clearing the table, so I pour another glass of wine, walk over to one of the windows, and stare down at the still lively waterfront below. The rain that was falling when I got here has morphed into a light snow flurry and the soft white flakes tumbling through the city lights are so beautiful it's mesmerizing.

"It's a magnificent view, isn't it?" Christian asks, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. I jump a little in surprise, but relax when he pulls me tightly into him and begins gently stroking his fingers of my arm again.

"Yes." I agree. "Everyone always thinks that winter in Seattle is horrible, but I love it. I think storm clouds are really beautiful, and I like how they make the water look black. And, it always smells like rain and trees. It's my favorite smell."

"Mmm." He hums, and he runs his nose along the slope of my neck and then gently kisses me just below my ear. A shiver runs down my spine as I automatically tilt my head away from him, exposing more of my neck to his lips, and he continues to leave a trail of soft kisses down to my shoulder. I let out a soft breath when his fingers brush aside my sweater to reveal more of my skin for his lips. There is a gentle tenderness in the way he holds me that is comforting and sensual, but also unexpected. I don't get any sense of hostility from him, no hint of the vicious Dom that lies just beneath the surface, and while part of me is concerned he's simply lulling me into a false sense of security, a greater part of me is entirely enraptured with the feel of his body against mine and his lips against my skin.

"I want to take you to bed, Anastasia." He says, and I swallow as I feel the intoxicating sense of longing building inside of me. _Can I really do this?_

I guess I'm going to find out.

I take a slow steady breath and whisper, "Okay."

He moans and turns my head to that he can kiss my lips and I briefly find myself lost once again in the feel of his tongue gently tangled with mine. I shift in his arms so that my body is pressed against his and then reach up into his hair, fully immersing myself in the kiss and forcing all thoughts of doubt or fear out of my mind. His mouth becomes more insistent against mine, his hands more desperate as they move over my body and begin gripping into my clothes. I let out a small, needy sounding gasp and he immediately breaks our kiss, takes my hand, and leads me back to his bedroom.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as we get closer and the paranoid part of me worries that he's going to be able to hear it and he'll sense my hesitation. He's used to willing submissives, women who will do whatever he wants them to do to please him sexually. Tonight, that is my role, and I have to play it perfectly if I'm going to make this plan work. I take another deep breath, shake my head slightly to try and get a grip on myself, and summon whatever courage I can find inside of me.

 _I'm doing this for Leila_. I remind myself.

When we get into the bedroom, I'm surprised. I kind of expected a dark, creepy looking dungeon filled with whips and chains and other medieval torture devices but the room he leads me into is nothing like that. The floors are the same dark wood from the great room, and the walls are a deep, slate gray with some kind of texture that I can't place from where I'm standing. The room is mostly empty of furniture, only two black nightstands, each with a modern looking lamp perched on top, and, of course, a gargantuan king sized bed, fill the space. The scenic windows from the rest of the house are also present here, bathing the room in the muted light from the city around us.

"Let's get these clothes off of you." Christian whispers, coming up behind me and brushing his hands over my shoulders in a comforting gesture. I silently command my body to relax and turn to face him. His lips curl into a half smile as he reaches down for the hem of my long cream colored sweater and eases it over my head. His lips pout slightly as he looks down at my cleavage, which is deeper and more defined thanks to the bra I'm wearing. Slowly, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on the swells of each of my breasts.

"What about you?" I ask, my voice quivering a little, which I hope he chalks up to desire rather than trepidation, but he just smirks at me.

"All in good time, Miss Steele." He says. "Let's focus on you right now."

His fingers move down to the buttons on the leather pants that Kate gave to me after she discovered period bloat wasn't the reason she couldn't fit into them anymore. I squirm a little, helping him pull them off of me and once I'm stripped down to just my panties, I take a step back so that he can get a better look.

"Get on the bed." He tells me, and upon hearing the commanding ring in his voice, I immediately do as he asks. Once I'm no longer facing him, he reaches out and, with a skill that I've never even seen a woman use, he unhooks the clasp to my bra. I roll my eyes to myself, shrug the bra over my shoulders so that if falls to the floor, and then crawl onto the bed, purposefully sashaying my ass from left to right as I move towards the middle of his comforter.

He lets out a low groan and I smile to myself at the ease of his approval. Maybe this won't be as difficult as I thought. He may be a billionaire business titan and an intimidating Dom, but he's still a man and that thought actually gives me a little comfort. I've been building this up too much in my head, made him more than he is. I know what he's capable of, I've seen his handiwork first hand, but being timid and afraid of him isn't going to help my cause. I need to focus. Elliot seemed to love it when I let go of my insecurities and let myself just shamelessly enjoy having sex. Maybe Christian will be the same way.

"On your back." He whispers, and I roll over, laying flat and stretching out over the bed. My hands move up into my hair as I give him a coy look. "I want you to put your legs together and lift them into the air and then slowly peel your panties off." He instructs me, and obediently, I do. I don't break eye contact with him as I pull my legs back towards my head so that I can pull my panties over my feet and when his mouth forms into a round, tantalizing "o", I toss my them into his chest.

"You're flexible." He says, approvingly. "That's good. Put your feet on the bed and bend your knees. Open your legs for me so that I can look at you."

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I do what he asks and when I see his eyes darken while they rake hungrily over me and his tongue traces slowly over his lip, I feel a wave of libidinous desire roll through me. He stalks towards the bed and begins tugging at the knot in his tie, yanking it harshly away and letting it fall to the floor before he removes the rest of his clothes. I watch him with captivated interest, taking in every flawless inch of his body. He's built much the same as his brother, broad shouldered, perfectly sculpted abs, pecs, and the oh so sexy line the starts over his hips and disappears down into his pants. I don't think he's quite as bulky as Elliot is, but what he lacks in mass he makes up for in definition.

His hands move to the buttons on his fly and as he hooks his long fingers under both the band of his pants and his boxers and eases them down, I find myself immediately captivated. His cock is utterly perfect. He's thick (though maybe not to the extent Elliot is), long, and smooth, with a deep, well defined lip beneath the head of his erection.

He lets out a small, breathy laugh, presumably as he sees the unconcealed desire in my eyes, and he reaches down and begins slowly stroking himself. "Don't worry, baby. I plan on you becoming very well acquainted with this. But first…"

He moves so that he's pressed up against the side of the bed and then eases down onto his knees. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around my hips and pulls me towards him so that my ass is almost hanging off the edge of the bed. I clench with anticipation as he lowers his mouth onto me and once he makes contact, I moan and feel myself melt into the bed.

He starts slow, tracing his tongue over me with only the slightest touch. Every now and then, he kisses me softly in a way that makes my muscles tighten with desire. The way he breathes over me heightens my arousal until…

"Oh my god!" I gasp as his mouth pushes deeper into me and he rolls his tongue over my clitoris in a way that I've never felt before. It's like I've been electrocuted, but the currents racing through my body are those of pure pleasure. Suddenly, the gentility is gone and his mouth is more insistent, more intense… He starts sucking on my clit, alternating between using his lips and his tongue and I can't hold back the constant litany of moans, pants, and cries that begin to pour from my mouth.

"Oh fuck!" I cry out, and he growls into me, the sound igniting something inside of me that quickly has me climbing towards the edge of release. My legs start shuddering, my breathing becomes rapid and far too loud, and then only seconds later, I explode. A strangely high, strangled sounding cry escapes my lips as I fall back into the bed and let the overwhelming waves of pleasure crash over me. It ripples through me more intensely than I've ever felt from just oral before and, though it seems to go on forever, when I finally come down, I'm almost bewildered. I've never gotten off that fast from anything but really dirty porn and a vibrator before in my life. He didn't even have to use his fingers...

Christian moans as he drags his tongue over me one last time, dipping it inside of me and circling it all the way around my entrance. A residual shutter courses through me as he places a soft kiss on my clitoris and then crawls onto the bed over me.

"Your come is so sweet, Anastasia." He says. "Taste it."

He grips onto my chin with his fingers and then pulls down on my bottom lip with his thumb to open my mouth so that he can slide his tongue inside. He's not kissing me. Our lips don't touch, he simply massages my tongue with his as he stares deeply into my eyes. The contact, the connection, it feels so... _intimate,_ and I don't know if it's this, or the mind blowing orgasm he just gave me, but suddenly I'm overcome with need for him.

"Christian." I whimper, and he leans further into me until we're kissing. I tilt my pelvis upward, silently begging him to get started, but when he pulls away from our kiss, he doesn't move his erection to my entrance. Instead, his mouth moves down my jawline, past my collarbones, until he reaches my breasts and he begins to suck my nipples. I writhe beneath him, gasping slightly when he gently bites down on my over sensitized nipple and tugs on it with his teeth. His hand slowly moves down the skin on my stomach until he reaches my clitoris. While his fingers gently massage me and his mouth lavishes my breasts, I feel my arousal heighten again, despite the orgasm he's just given me. I can feel his erection pressing into me and it leaves me needy and wanting. I don't know if I've ever felt this overwhelmed by desire before… I need him, badly. Right now.

He groans again as he finally slides a finger inside of me and I immediately clench around him. "Oh baby…" He moans. "You're so wet. God, do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you tonight?"

"N-no." I stutter, a slight flash of worry creeping up inside of me again as I think of all the things he _could_ do to me.

"I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before. You aren't going to be able to move tomorrow without being reminded of my cock being inside of you."

I swallow nervously as he climbs off of me and pulls open the drawer in his bedside table to retrieve a condom. I watch intently as he tears open the foil package with his teeth, reaches down to grip the base of his erection, and then slowly rolls the condom over his cock.

"Get on your hands and knees." He tells me, and I do so without hesitation. The next thing I feel is his hands gripping onto my ass, squeezing it firmly, and using his thumbs to gently pull and stretch the lips of my vagina.

"Your ass is so sexy, Anastasia." He tells me and I squirm a little in his hands until I feel his erection begin to brush up and down the entrance of my vagina.

"Are you ready for me, baby?" He whispers.

"Yes." I breathe back, and I tilt my hips to grant him easier access as he slowly pushes forward. I can feel every inch of him stretching me as slides into me, the movement so purposeful and controlled, it feels as though he's staking a claim. I whimper a little as he fully buries himself inside of me, feeling full and nearly stretched to my limit. I don't know what Mama Grey fed her boys growing up, but the endowment between the two of them might just be the death of me.

I brace myself for Christian to begin a hard, punishing rhythm, but he doesn't. Instead, he's slow and deliberate, giving me time to adjust to his size. He moves in and out of me at different angles which makes each thrust feel unexpected and invigorates my body in a new and different way. I respond to him on an almost instinctual level, moving with him and reacting to the things he does so instantaneously there isn't time for thought. I've never had someone take this much care in the way they were fucking me before. Usually guys are in and out, moving as hard and fast as they can until they get off, but Christian… It feels like he's exploring me, learning me, focusing on my pleasure as much as his. It's incredible and the rational part of my brain hates how good he feels inside of me, but the rest of me is desperate for more.

I moan and push back into him, encouraging him, and his fingers sink into my hips as he begins increasing his rhythm just a little.

"Oh, baby." He groans, "You're so fucking tight. God, you feel amazing." He eases back and then slams forward again, a little rougher this time and I let out a high, keening squeal. His hips swivel around for a moment, as though he's attempting to test the limits of the room he has to move inside of me and once his inspection is complete, he pulls back again and really picks up the pace.

I grip the sheets below me, desperately trying to hold onto something as I see the first glimpse of his savagery. He pummels in and out of me hard enough that each of his thrusts is accompanied by the scraping sound of the bed moving across the wood floor. Before long, I'm panting through my moans, struggling to pull in enough air as he fucks me mercilessly, and my body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He moves again, thrusting into me at a different angle and I let out a scream of pure pleasure as his cock hits against the place inside of me that has my entire body alight with sensation.

"There it is." He growls, and he focuses all of his efforts into that once magical spot. Soon my entire body begins to shudder and convulse as the ecstasy overwhelms me, and there's nothing I can do but surrender myself to him. It's raw and animalistic and so fucking hot.

"Fuck, Ana." He growls. "Your ass looks so good bouncing against me." I hear the wet sounds of him sucking his finger for a moment and then feel him begin to massage my asshole. "Have you been fucked here before?"

I swallow back the gasping cries still pouring out of me so that I can answer him. I have, once, but I don't really think that's what he wants to hear while he's inside of me, nor do I want him to pull out and start fucking my ass, so I tell him that I haven't, and he moans in approval.

"Good. Then I'll be the first." His finger sinks inside of me, working in and out of me as he continues to fuck me mercilessly. His hands spread me open, allowing him to slip another finger in while also granting him deeper access inside of me. I'm panting from the exertion, almost whining from the intense pleasure rocketing through me as each of his thrusts stroke against my g-spot, and soon I feel the promising wave a heat begin to rise in me again.

"Oh fuck, Christian. I'm going to come." I warn him. But just before I explode, he pulls out of me.

"Oh no, not yet, baby." He says, and while I whimper in protest, he flips me onto my back and reaches for two pillows from the head of the bed. I lift my ass off the mattress so he can slide them underneath me, and then cry out as he thrusts inside of me again.

He pulls my leg over his shoulder as he lowers his body down over mine and immediately finds my g-spot again, like now that he's discovered it, he'll never lose it. A deeply satisfied, guttural moan escapes my lips as I revel in this new position. It's so much better, not only because of how deep he is this way, but because I can see him while he fucks me. He really is unbelievably beautiful, his body is rock hard and flawless. The way his muscles stretch and contract with each movement is so unbelievably sexy, it's like watching porn. His steel colored eyes, dark with lust, bare down into me with such intensity it feels as though he's looking right through me.

I reach my hands up to his face and pull his lips down to mine, kissing him with all of the passion and desire I feel welling inside of me and he returns the kiss with equal fervor. In this moment, I'm completely and utterly lost in him to the point where nothing in the universe exists outside of the two of us. He's everywhere, consuming me, possessing me, and I surrender myself willingly to him as he takes me to places and makes me feel things I've never experienced before.

"Oh Ana, your tits are so…" His voice cuts off as his face becomes marred with his growing desire and he leans down and begins kissing my neck while his fingers find my nipple. He pinches it, a little too hard, but surprisingly the pain only heightens the feeling of pleasure everywhere else.

"Oh fuck, Christian!" I scream. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Are you going to come for me, Ana?" He asks, his voice husky and dripping with lust as he increases his pace.

"C-C-Close." I stutter, as it's all I can get out before my words are cut off with a scream of pure ecstasy.

"That's it, baby." He encourages me. "Scream for me. Come on this fucking cock."

"Yes! Oh god, yes!"

His hands twist into my hair, pulling harshly against my roots but I hardly feel it through the bewildering euphoria clouding all of my senses. His body weight presses me deep into the mattress as he plunges in and out of me again and again until my body seizes and then releases all at once in the most powerful orgasm I've ever had in my life.

"Chr-Chr-Christian!" I cry out incoherently. "I'm com-oh god!"

"Yes." He hisses. "Fuck, you're tight when you come, Ana. Ah!"

He slams into me again, his fingers digging deeply into my hips as he holds me down so he can continue to move in and out of me until finally his mouth opens in a silent show of pleasure and he stills inside of me. I feel the gentle ripple of each spurt of come he releases into me, even through the condom, and surprisingly, I revel in the sensation. His release feels like an accomplishment.

When he's finished, he leans down and kisses me again, his tongue invading my mouth in a possessive, commanding way that feels rewarding and leaves me breathless. I can't believe that only a few minutes ago, I was actually scared of this. He's just given me the best sex of my life, the most powerful orgasm I've ever experienced, and now I'm nearly drowning in the post coital euphoria that has my head swimming. There was nothing that I would consider BDSM… just regular sex. Amazing sex, but nothing scary…

"That was…." He says, pausing briefly as though he's having difficulty finding the right word. "Good. Really good." I can see the surprise reflected in his expression but I'm not coherent enough to wonder why. He shakes his head a little as if to reorient himself and then pulls out of me. I wince slightly, but there's also a deep rooted sense of satisfaction in that pain. A reminder of what we just had together.

"Are you tired?" He asks, and I nod. I'm not sure if the exhaustion I feel is from a need to sleep or simply from being completely wrung out by that last orgasm, but either way, I know I'm not going to be able to get out of bed.

"Here," He says gently, and he climbs out of the bed and turns the blankets down for me. I suppress a groan as I move to crawl under the covers, but it ends up being worth it when I realize how much more comfortable I am enveloped in his extraordinarily soft sheets and sinking into the overfilled down pillows. He leans over and kisses me gently on the lips once more and then pulls the covers more tightly around me.

"I'm going to go check on some things for work, I'll be back soon. Don't get dressed. I want you naked in my bed tonight. We'll fuck again in a few hours."

 _Again?_

I swallow, not allowing myself to feel either apprehension or excitement at his promise as my eyelids begin to droop. He kisses me one last time and the turns for his closet. I listen to him opening and closing drawers for a moment, but before long I lose the fight to keep my eyes open and drift off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Ana POV:

"I have to take this," Christian sighs, sounded legitimately frustrated as he places the call he'd just answered on mute. "I'm not sure how long it will take. But if I had to guess, it won't be quick."

"It's fine," I nod, pushing my plate a couple of inches away from me and glancing at the clock. "It's late anyway." I have plans to go visit Leila today, and I'm supposed to be there at two. I still have to shower and get changed and make the hour long drive out there, so I decide now is as good of a time as any to head out. I push back my chair in anticipation of standing, but he stops me, instead standing himself, placing a hand on my shoulder and pushing me back down in my seat.

"No," he says, then pushes the plate back in front of me. "Stay. Finish your food. You barely ate." He leaves his plate on the breakfast bar, and pushes in his chair, turning in the direction of his home office.

Barely ate? I had two pieces of quiche, a small plate of fresh fruit and a fresh croissant. I shouldn't have even eaten _that_ much, but it was all so damn delicious. "I've had plenty," I tell him, managing to actually stand this time,

"Ana," he says, a warning inflection in his tone, but says no more. I really don't want to be bullied into eating any more. I really don't think I can physically fit any more food in my stomach. So i ignore him, grabbing both of our plates and take them to the sink.

"Christian, I'm stuffed. Really," I insist as I begin to rinse the plates. "I should get going anyway. I need to shower and change my clothes. It's midday and I'm in the same clothes as yesterday." I make a face to myself, because I really do feel gross wearing them for so long. I'd thrown them back on this morning when Christian had gone into the bathroom, and it was my worst nightmare to have to put on leather pants and a sweater at a time of day when I am normally in yoga pants and a tank top. The only saving grace was that I'd forwent my bra.

"I purchased clothes for you for the weekend already," he responds dismissively. And just as I start to feel indignant over his blatant disregard of what I'm telling him, I feel him behind me, his arms sliding around my waist and his lip gently touch my ear. "But, save the shower until I'm done. I've got plans for you in there." His hands slide up my ribs to my breasts, cupping them over my sweater, giving a firm squeeze before his thumbs and index fingers tighten around my nipples. I groan, the sensation immediately shooting from my nipples to my belly. He chuckles in my ear, his lips teasing along my neck. "Mmm," he hums softly. "I don't know if I will ever get my fill of you, Ana."

I arch my back, pressing my ass against his pelvis and feel that he's already getting hard. God, what is it about him? Why does he have a direct line to my libido? I want nothing more in this moment than for him to bend me over this fancy kitchen counter and fuck me senseless.

And it seems the feeling is mutual, because instead of leaving to go take his call, he spins me around, lifting me up and placing me on the counter. Before I know what's happening, my sweater is on the floor and his mouth is latched onto my left breast. I moan as his tongue flicks my nipple, and his responding growl sends a vibration through my chest. But just as I sink my fingers into his hair, his phone starts to ring loudly next to us.

His teeth nip my nipple hard and I let out a little shriek, pouting as he gives me a wicked grin as he picks up the phone.

"Why the fuck are you calling me again?" He's close enough for me to hear the other person through the phone respond, saying they'd were concerned the call had been lost since they'd been on hold for so long. "If the call was lost, I would have called you back. I put you on hold for a reason. Because I want you to **hold**." I hear a meek 'Sorry, sir'. I watch his eyes trail longingly across my bare chest and he looks like a child whose favorite toy just broke. The thought makes me giggle, which causes his eyes to snap to mine. He grins back, knowing he was caught staring, and mouths 'sorry' before huffing and moving toward his office again.

I watch him leave the room, still turned on and loving the way his muscles flex and bunch underneath the tight t-shirt he's wearing. Once he's out of sight, I jump off the counter and put my own shirt back on. I finish rinsing the dishes and place them in the dishwasher before packing up all the food that's still sitting out on the counter.

When we'd first come out of his room and I noticed all the food, I couldn't help but think that it looked like it was prepared for a photo shoot in Food & Wine magazine. His housekeeper had prepared a quiche from scratch, as well as as few other finger foods and a large plate of fresh cut fruit, all decked out with garnishes and displayed in elaborate symetric patterns on fancy serving dishes. I covered them all carefully, putting them in the empty spot in the refrigerator before finding a dish cloth and wiping down the counters.

After everything is clean again, I check the clock, debating what to do. I was kind of hoping he would be done with his call before I was done cleaning so I didn't have to interrupt him while he was working. But that's when I realize that it's actually perfect that he's obviously busy. It works to my advantage that he has shit to get done, since I really _do_ need to get out of here. He'll be distracted enough while on the phone that I can get away with motioning that I need to leave and he really won't have much room to protest since he's on the phone.

I go back to his room, finding my bra and shoving it in my purse. Then I go find my shoes, putting them on and slinging my purse over my shoulder, even taking my keys out and holding them in my hand, just to drive the visual home to him that I'm leaving.

I approach his study door, finding it cracked open, allowing his emphatic voice to come pouring out of the gap as he argues heatedly with whoever is on the phone. Perfect.

I almost push the door open without knocking, but remember I don't want to upset him _too_ much, and I've picked up on the fact that following traditional rules of etiquette is something that he values, and therefore, would appreciate if I knock and wait to be invited into the room before entering. I give two light taps to the wood, and hear a sharp 'Come in' in response before he goes back to shouting into the phone.

I push the door open and gingerly step inside, giving him a little wave with the hand holding the keys. He gives me a once over, looking confused, and I give him a sympathetic half smile before pointing over my shoulder. 'I need to go,' I mouth to him, over-exaggerating the syllables so he can understand me. His eyes darken a little and I can see the flash of anger.

"Hold on," he barks into the phone, "And **don't** hang up this time." He places the call on hold and looks back up at me. "What are you doing?"

I almost roll my eyes, knowing he already knew what I was doing because I know he understood what I mouthed to him, but I manage to keep a straight, apologetic face instead.

"I really need to get going."

"I told you, I have clothes _here_ ," he says, standing up. Shit. He's more pissed than I thought he'd be. I need to do damage control.

I move closer to him, trying to placate him. "I know, and I appreciate that so much. You're so sweet," I say, laying the gratitude on thick and leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek once I reach him. I feel his body relax a little. "But I have things to do."

"What things?" he asks, wrapping an arm around my waist. "I can have Taylor do them."

I grin up at him, placing a kiss on his jaw. "I promised a visit with a friend. I think she'd notice if Taylor showed up in my place," I purposely giggle, trying to further soften him, having picked up on the fact that it seems to have some affect on him. And this time is no different, as it results in him letting out a little groan before placing kisses behind my ear. But still he doesn't give up.

"Cancel. Stay," he whispered, his hands tugging at my hips, pressing them against his own and grinding what I find out is a full erection against my belly.

"I can't," I pout. "She's only in town for the day," I lie. I need something he can't refute. I can tell his irritated, beyond irritated even, so I decide to soften the blow with, well, a different kind of 'blow'.

I grin up at him, kissing his quickly on the lips before dropping to my knees in front of him. His eyes widen for just a moment in surprise before lust takes over. He looks down on me, his presence completely dominating, and runs his tongue over his teeth.

I look up at him, letting him take the first real step, even though I really want to just push him backward into his office chair and take control. _Submissive, submissive, submissive,_ I remind myself.

He holds eye contact with me as he pops the button on his jeans and lowers them off of his hips. I lick my lips in anticipation, actually kind of eager to get a taste of him. He really is a beautiful man.

He stands in front of me, holding his cock in his right hand while his left hand combs through the hair at my scalp and stops to rest at the back of my head. "Open up," he says with authority, a small smile tugging at his lips when I eagerly comply.

He slides the tip along my tongue, past my teeth and about halfway into my mouth. I tease it gently, getting to know the thickness, the length, the weight of it that are all unique to him. I go to grab the rest of his length, but his hand shoots out and stops mine. "I only want your mouth."

I look into his eyes, and his are piercing down into mine. As I begin to really move, I keep thinking he'll eventually break the eye contact to watch my mouth, like every other guy I've ever blown, but instead he never waivers in holding his gaze with my eyes. The intensity, _the intimacy_ of it is almost overwhelming, yet I can't seem to look away either. In fact, it ends up making the whole thing even more thrilling because even though he has amazing control over his body, I can see how much I am actually affecting him when I look into his eyes. The lights and darks of his irises peak and dim as I experiment with the tempo, with sucking versus licking, with my tongue and my teeth.

Like last night, I'd expected him to be forceful and controlling the whole time, but I'm pleasantly surprised that he just sits back and allows me to do my thing. My ego flares, wanting to show him that I can please him even when he's not calling the shots. It spurs me on to go further, do more. I find myself pushing past my gag reflex, deep throating him until I physically have to pull off to breath. I see an appreciative glint in his eyes as I snake my tongue across his balls, pulling one in the my mouth and sucking before taking care of the other, then go back to take him deep again.

He lasts forever. My jaw is aching but I refuse to give up, or even slow down. A logical part of me knows that I have to be as good as, if not better than, all the women he's had before to make sure he keeps his interest in me. But a little voice in the back of my mind tells me that last night was completely mind blowing when I wasn't actively thinking about needing to be better- last night was amazing without having to try.

Finally I can sense his impending orgasm as his muscles start to flex and his breathing becomes harsher. His hips start to thrust as he chases his release, and as I feel the moment closing in, I stop moving and allow him to take over, the power shift swift and complete as he gathers my hair, wrapping it around his fist and fucks my mouth. His eyes are still piercing into mine, the look in them so blazingly intense I feel my own body sing with desire. He grits his teeth, his jaw clenching, harshening the angles of his face in a supremely attractive way, and he delivers a few more long strokes before pressing my head firmly into his pelvis as he comes down the back of my throat.

As soon as his grip lets up, I pull off of him, sitting back on my heels as I watch him. His eyes are finally closed, his chest expanding widely as he pulls in deep, fulfilling breaths. When his eyes finally open again, they find me still waiting on my knees in front of him, and he grins down at me so wide it makes me want to laugh. I bite my lip to try and hold it in, but it bubbles out anyway as he reaches down, pulling me up onto his lap and kissing me deeply. In my experience, most guys have an aversion to kissing immediately following a blow job, but Christian seems to have no problem with it as he explores my mouth fully. If I didn't have to go, I'd stay here and take advantage of that magical tongue, but I really _do_ have to leave.

"I'm still not happy you're leaving," he said, his tone chastising but playful and we both stand and he secures his jeans back into place. I give him a sympathetic smile and a half shrug, picking my purse and keys up off the floor where I'd dumped them. He lets out a resigned sigh, kissing my forehead. "Regardless, I enjoyed our time together."

"Me too," I admit. And honestly it's one hundred percent the truth. He takes my hand, leading me out of his office and to the elevator.

"Next week, make sure you have no other plans, Miss Steele," he says as he presses the button to call for the elevator, and the doors pop open immediately.

"I'll make sure to pack a bag," I agree with a nod.

"No need. I don't plan on you wearing clothes," he says with a smirk, and I laugh lightly as I step into the elevator.

"Bye, Christian," I say sweetly.

"Goodbye, Anastasia," he says, watching me until the doors close between us.

I rush home to take a quick shower and change before going to see Leila. I rush as fast as I can, knowing I'm running late. Leila's dad specifically mentioned not wanting Kate there, and I don't even bother worrying about what to say to her if she asks to go, because the chances of that happening are slim to nil. And I'm proven right, as she's quick to tell me she needs to get some work done when I remind her why I need her car. But she's just sitting in her robe with a bag of chips watching the Kardashians on E! so I know that working is just an excuse. Whatever.

Once I'm on the road to the facility, I start to get really excited about seeing Leila. I miss her. I miss not seeing her, but even when I have in the past weeks, it hasn't been _her_. She hasn't been _my_ Leila. But her dad told me she was doing significantly better, starting to finally resemble her old self again, both in personality and appearance. He said she's got color to herself again, _life_ in her eyes. She was smiling and laughing again. I'm so eager to see her and spend quality time with her. I want her healthy and happy, and according to her dad, she's finally starting to pave the way down that path.

I make it there just in time to go through the check in procedures at the front desk, finding them much less strict than they'd been before Leila had moved out of the higher observation room ward and into one with less restrictions. When I make it to her room, I'm practically giddy with excitement at seeing my bestie again, so when I knock on her door and hear her monotone 'Come in', I'm immediately put off by it.

I push it open, my exuberance from a moment before quelled and I enter more hesitantly than I would have just seconds ago. She sitting on her bed, her legs pulled to her chest, her hair pulled back, but the pony tail has slid and is hanging loosely off to the left side of her head. She doesn't look nearly as good as I expected her too. She looks pale with dark circles underneath her eyes like she hasn't slept all night. She doesn't smile, doesn't even look at me as I step into the room and shut the door.

"H-hey," I stammer, completely confused. I thought she was doing better. What happened?

"Hi," she says, her voice soft. She tilts her head in my direction, but her eyes never meet mine as she pulls her mouth into what I think she thinks is a smile, but it's really just a grimace.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"Okay," she says, but it's not convincing at all, even for an answer that isn't very positive to begin with.

I nod, not knowing what to say to her. I can't very well blurt out, 'What's wrong with you? I thought you were doing better,' which is what I _want_ to say to her. But obviously I can't say anything to make her feel badly, to risk making whatever is going on worse. Tentatively I step further into the room, laying my purse on a little table she has in the corner of her room. The walls are decorated with pictures of mostly her family, but some of me and Kate too. There's some other pictures on the walls too- paintings, and I think I remember her dad saying something about art being part of her therapy, and Leila always did love to paint. I look at them, trying to decipher what she might have been feeling while painting them, but they're all pretty abstract and I suck at analyzing art.

"Did you paint these?" I ask her, running my finger over the edge of one of the canvases.

I look back at her, feeling a wash of sadness come over me as she just sits there and nods staring down at the bed. I feel tears welling up in my eyes as I look at her- my best friend. I love her to death, and it hurts me so much to see her like this. I go over to her bed, sitting down in the middle on the side adjacent to her.

"I've missed you Lei-Lei," I tell her, calling her the stupid nickname I know she hates. My voice cracks, and I know she hears it because she tenses and finally looks up at me.

"I've missed you too," she says, and it sounds sincere, yet so forlorn that it just tears me apart inside. I look up to blink back the tears and by the time I look back down, she's looking at the bed again.

I feel the ache of sadness fill my chest as I try to figure out what to do or say to her. This is my best friend. I used to know exactly what to do or say no matter what the situation. I never had to stop and think about it, never had to question my words or actions around her. But this is so much more serious than anything I've ever dealt with before. I'm so worried about doing or saying anything to trivialize what she's feeling, since I have no idea what she _is_ feeling. This Leila feels like a stranger to me and I hate it. But I need to keep trying.

I notice a pretty bouquet of flowers sitting on the table next to her. I clear my throat, plastering on a smile. "These flowers are pretty. Who are they from?"

She just shrugs, and I feel frustrated for a moment before she suddenly bursts out into tears.

"Leila?" I asked, shocked and completely confused. I lean toward her, moving to wrap my arms around her and try to comfort her, but the moment I touch her, she pushes me away and jumps up out of the bed, making a beeline for her private bathroom.

I decide to give her a minute, still feeling the sting of her rejection. Leila has never had a problem curling up in my arms and crying to me when she's upset. It kills me that she's distanced herself so much from me, but I have to keep reminding myself that she's not really herself, and this isn't about me.

I get up off the bed to smell the flowers, a really expensive looking bouquet of stargazer lilies, and from two feet away I can already smell them. They are my favorite flowers, have been since I was a little girl, and the smell triggers one of the nicer memories from my childhood that I'd forgotten all about.

I recall one of the many houses in which Carla and I lived. I think I was about seven, and there was a really nice neighbor, Mrs. J, who grew award winning liles in a greenhouse in her backyard. When we first met, she found me locked out of the house, sitting on the back deck in the rain. Carla wasn't ever home when I got off the bus from school, but this day she just forgot to leave the door unlocked for me. Mrs. J happened to see me sitting outside and invited me over to get me out of the rain. She invited me into her greenhouse and I spent all afternoon learning all about her flowers. I vaguely remember her asking questions about where Carla was, and I remember I told her the truth- that I never really knew. She told me she'd hide a key to the greenhouse door for me, in case there was ever a time when she wasn't home and I needed a sheltered place to go.

Every day after that, I went to her greenhouse after school, even when Carla did unlock the door. Mrs. J would let me help with the flowers, or sometimes I'd just sit on the little padded chair and do my homework or read. I remember the day when she snipped one of the blooms off and gave it to me. I was beyond thrilled. I found a little vase and put in it my room by my bed. But when Carla found it, she immediately tossed it in the trash, telling me she was allergic to them. I remember I was devastated.

I frown. We didn't stay in that house for very long. I had forgotten all about Mrs. J and her lilies until now. So many people were in and out of my life so quickly when I still living with Carla, but Mrs. J was one of the nice ones.

I lean in closer to inhale their scent more deeply. I reach out to touch the bloom that is front and center, caressing the petal between my thumb and index finger. But I recognize immediately it's fake. An expensive fake, but a fake. I know at least _some_ of these have to be real, because I can smell them, so I check the rest, and they're all real. It's just this big one in the middle that's fake. I pluck it from the bouquet, twisting it in my fingers, wondering why in the hell someone would put a fake flower in the middle of a bouquet of expensive, real ones. I notice a white cap at the bottom of the stem and pull it off. The stem is hollow, but there's nothing inside. It makes no sense at all to me.

I put it back into it's spot in the middle of the bouquet and read the tag attached with a pretty ribbon around the neck of the vase. Scrawled in feminine cursive, it says ' _Never give up_.' Huh. I try to think of who could have sent these, and the only person who comes to mind is Kate. She certainly has the money to afford something like this. The fake flower is still weird. But maybe it's metaphorical? Coupled with the note, maybe it's about resilience. This flower will be standing when all the others are gone. Kate really gets into that inspirational stuff sometimes. I bet she got the idea off Pinterest. It's actually pretty sweet. And it's totally a Kate move to do something nice like this and not take credit for it. If she does something bitchy, she wants everyone to know, but God forbid anyone find out she actually has a heart.

A loud thud from the bathroom pulls me out of my thoughts about Kate and the flowers.

"Leila? Are you okay?" I shout to her from outside the bathroom as I hurry over to the door. She doesn't answer, and I feel wave of concern roll through me. I don't even knock, twisting the doorknob as soon as I can grasp it, and find it unlocked. I push open the door and find Leila slumped against the wall, sobbing and mumbling and shaking on the floor. Jesus Christ. Is she hurt?

"Are you okay?" I repeat, and her head is shaking back and forth continuously, but I don't think it's in response to my question. "Leila," I shout, crouching down in front of her.

"He wants me to do it," she whispers coherently enough through her tears for me to understand.

"What? Do _what_?" I ask, trying to understand what she's talking about.

"He wouldn't care. He _wants_ me to do it," she cries out, louder this time, more hysterical.

I'm so confused. What is she talking about? I ask again, but she still ignores me. I kneel down fully, shuffling closer to her. I automatically reach for her hand, thinking maybe she'd let me hold it and comfort her that way, since she rebuffed my hug earlier. But her hand is clenched into a tight fist and she doesn't uncurl her fingers for me. Her knuckles are turning white, it's closed so tightly, like she's gripping something inside of it.

"Leila, what's in your hand?" She starts shaking her head rapidly back and forth again, clutching her fist to her chest. "Leila show me what you have in your hand!" I demand, panicked, worried she has something she could hurt herself with.

She struggles against me, and fully healthy, Leila is definitely stronger than I am, but she's not healthy, so I manage to pry her fingers apart. And when I do, a half dozen or so little blue pills fly from her fist and skitter across the bathroom floor.

I'm shocked. _Pills._ Where did she get pills? I freak out, completely terrified of the idea that if I hadn't caught her, Leila might have taken them, might have attempted suicide again. Leila needs help. Help I can't give her. She was going to try to commit suicide again. She's not healthy. She needs help. I see the big red 'Call Nurse' button on the wall and smack it quickly with my hand.

What has happened to my best friend?

Leila collapses on the the floor, burying her face in her elbow, pressed against the bathroom carpet and releases gut wrenching sobs. I feel big, fat tears well in my eyes and slide down my cheeks. I move as quickly as I can to pick up all the pills, wiping hastily at my tears which are making it hard to see.

As I'm collecting the last one I can see, the nurse come rushing into the room, her surprise at the scene before her playing out clearly on her face.

"What happened?" She asks quickly, getting down onto the floor to check on Leila.

"She… I-," I try to talk, but I'm really crying and I can't seem to get the words out. I take a couple deep breaths and try again. "I found her in here. With these," I say, holding out my hand to show her the pills.

Her eyes go wide as she takes them, inspects them, and then immediately reaches for a walkie-talkie that was clipped to her waistband and urgently demands assistance. Other people come rushing in moments later.

"Is there any chance she took some of them before you came into the bathroom?" one of the new people in the room asks me, and I feel the horror creeping in.

"I don't _think_ so. I _really_ don't think so, but no, I don't know for sure," I admit. Oh God, what if she did?

The small bathroom is now a flurry of activity with everyone talking at once. One nurse is shouting orders to take Leila to the medical ward, and then a third nurse pops up and tells me I need to leave.

I look up at her totally bewildered. "Leave?" I ask. I can't leave… Leila needs me.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, but our top priority right now is taking care of your friend. To do that properly, we can't have you in the room. I know this is hard for you, but please understand that this is just the protocol. When we know something, we will contact Leila's family, and they can let you know how she is. Okay?" 

I nod jerkily. Her family? God, her parents are going to be devastated.

I let the nurse take my arm and lead me out of the room, and I don't know exactly how I get to my car, but the next thing I know, that's where I am.

I feel numb as I make the drive back to my apartment. I can barely wrap my head around what's happened, and a million thoughts are running through my mind. I need to call Phil and Kathy. I know they're going to want to hear my side of this personally, and I owe it to them to not have to make the first call. I scour my brain for an answer to how she could have gotten the pills. Could someone else have snuck them in and given them to her? If people do it in prisons, I'm sure they could do it in psych hospitals too. I'm not even sure what kind of pills she had. Maybe someone snuck in some pain killers for recreational use and Leila simply acquired enough of them to do serious bodily harm? I don't know. I'm grasping at straws trying to come up with answers, but I simply don't know.

As I make the turn into the parking lot for my building, I noticed a new-looking, sleek red Audi in our assigned parking space. What the fuck? Why would someone park in our space? I groan, forced to drive around and find somewhere to park Kate's car, eventually finding an open spot in the small uncovered lot down the street. I'm pissed, and I know Kate's going to be pissed when she finds out she's going to have to walk halfway down the block to get to her car later. This is really the last fucking thing I feel like dealing with right now. After parking, and fuming about the trek back to the building, where I debate the merits of keying the fucking thing up, I decide I'm instead going to call the office for the apartment complex and have them tow the car. Normally I'm not quite that vindictive, but fuck it. Today, I am.

I finally make it to our door, getting the key in the lock, but I don't even get a chance to twist the knob before the door is flung open and Kate greets me giddily.

I'm one hundred percent not in the mood for whatever she's excited about. I just can't right now. I'm sad and scared and miserable, and I don't even want to tell her about it because of how she acted last time, coupled with the fact that she didn't even want to come see Leila today with me. I give her a weak smile, knowing I'm probably all blotchy and swollen from crying, and hope she'll be scared off at the prospect of having to actually offer a supportive interaction with me. But she just ignores my obvious state and holds up a car key wrapped in an oversized blue silk bow. She dangles it back and forth in the air before handing it to me with a card that's in her other hand.

I look at the key, noting the telltale symbol of four linked circles that indicate it's an Audi, then open the card.

 **I can find my way to you, land, sea or sky, but I wanted to make it easier for you to be able to get to me. Your new car awaits in the parking bay for your apartment. I'm counting the minutes until the next time I see you. -Christian**

I reread the card twice before the words really sink in. A car? That Audi I wanted to key in the parking lot is actually _mine_? He bought me a car? And not just any car… but a brand new, beautiful, and expensive car. I remember Leila saying Christian bought her gifts, but a car? There's no way he's ever gotten her anything as extravagant as this.

I feel a small zing of victory. This has to mean something. This proves I'm actually getting somewhere with him. A small, fleeting feeling of happiness follows, and I immediately feel guilty because I know it's not solely because I'm succeeding in my plan to deceive him. The tiniest little piece of me is legitimately pleased at the idea that he finds me different. And it's that little piece that keeps me from taking the car out for a spin. Instead, I set the key in the bowl.

"I'm going to my room," I tell Kate. She looks at me like I'm nuts.

"You're not going to go drive it?"

"Not right now. I'm going to call and thank Christian first."

She seems to accept that answer, turning and going back to the vacant spot on the couch next to the scrunched up blanket and half empty bag of chips. I roll my eyes, knowing damn well the only time she left that couch since I left to go see Leila was to answer the door for whoever delivered the car, which just confirms that she didn't stay behind to do any work.

I collapse onto my bed, completely drained emotionally. I think about Leila, and I think about Christian, and I think about how things with this plan aren't going the same way as I'd expected. Today had started out so good. Last night with Christian had been otherworldly, and this morning has been good, _truly_ good. I feel guilty that I enjoy sex with him so much. That was never part of the plan, and it is definitely an unexpected revelation. During sex, I honestly forgot about plans and revenge and all that bullshit. It was just me and him and it was so, so good.

But seeing Leila today made it all come roaring back. There is was, right in front of me, utterly evident what he had done to my best friend. He destroyed her. To the point where she's turned to suicide _twice_. Christian Grey did that to her. He fucked her up so badly before, that she still cannot get over it. She's still obsessing about him, even now, all this time later, so much so that she actively sought out pills to attempt to end her life again. It's unfathomable to me, even though I've now seen her at her very lowest with my own eyes. And here I am, actually enjoying my time alone with him. More than enjoying, I'm craving it. I _want_ to spend time with him. Need it, even. Like, to the point where I'm fighting not jumping in the car and going to him right now.

Fuck. This is so fucked up.

I torment myself with these ideas for a short time more before I realize I need to talk to someone about this. And there's only one person who knows about any of it, so I scroll through my phone until I find his name and tap the little green phone icon.

I hear his low hum into the phone before he actually speaks. "I was just thinking about you," he says his voice smooth and low.

"Elliot, I'm having a crisis of conscience right now and I need you to talk me through it."

"Okay. Lay it on me. I'm all ears," he says his voice normal again. I debate telling him I'll come over, just in case, since Kate is here, but I'm pretty positive she's not moving from that couch. And if I go over there, I'm also pretty positive Elliot will try to stick his dick in me rather than actually listen to me talk, so I resolve to just do this here and now.

I give him a run down of everything that happened between me and his brother, what happened with Leila today, and everything I've been thinking and feeling,

When I'm done, he lets out a low whistle. "Yeah, you might be fucked."

"Fuck you," I spit out quickly, but he's quick to jump back in.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Calm down, Ana. Just relax. You're really on edge because a lot has happened to you today. You're worried about your best friend, and that's manifesting itself into guilt. Yes, she took a little detour in her recovery, but you were there and you basically saved her life. She's in the best place she can possibly be to get the help she needs. She's lucky to have you as a friend looking out for her , protecting her, defending her. And don't feel guilty about the sex. Sex is sex. I've had really good sex with plenty of people I hate. As much as I _personally_ wish you weren't **so** into fucking my little brother, it's really not a big deal that you enjoy sex with him. Honestly this whole thing would be really hard to pull off if you didn't."

I nod, feeling some of my tension ebb away. That last part was true. I'm trying to get him to fall in love with me. I'm sure it would be pretty difficult to get us to the point where that became a possibility if the sex was terrible. And Leila? I _am_ doing this for her. Now is just a really awkward time in the plan, and that has me feeling uneasy, but ultimately, this _is_ all for her.

"Feel better?" he asks.

"Yes," I admit. "Thanks."

"No problem," he says. There's a pause before he speaks again, his voice back to the huskiness from before. "So, what are you doing? Wanna come over?"

I roll my eyes, but that actually is a great excuse to get out and try out my pretty new car. "Sure," I say. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be on my way."

"Good. I can keep your mind off your problems, help you relieve some stress. ….Make you forget all about Christian."

I don't have a response to that, however, because that little fleeting feeling at just the mention of his name tells me that's going to be much easier said than done.


	12. Chapter 12

**Elliot POV:**

An excited kind of thrill rushes through me when I get off the phone with Ana, and as I turn off the Huskies game and leap off the couch to head for the shower, I can't wipe the ridiculous grin off my face. I don't know what it is about this girl but I can't ever seem to get enough her. I've never been so fixated on one person before in my life and I don't know if it's her or simply the fact that there's _finally_ another person on this planet who sees Christian for the real fuckboy that he is, but every time I see her, or talk to her, or even just think her name, I feel… better. Somehow, she always makes everything _better_.

I'd always been fascinated by Ana, ever since the first time I saw her in Kate's apartment. I mean obviously, she's sexy as hell, but she's also really sharp, and funny, and she can talk shit with the best of them. Still, I assumed it was her complete lack of interest in me that made her so appealing. She was never jumping at the chance to drag me up an aisle or even just suck my dick like all the girls I meet in bars and clubs. But my fascination has only grown stronger since the first time I fucked her. And, each time we've been together has inexplicably been better than the last.

I started watching the game right after I got back from the gym this afternoon, so before I do anything else, I hop into the shower. Usually I shave my face before a girl comes over, but Ana seems to like the way my stubble feels against her pussy when I go down on her, so I tonight, I don't. Again, a smile breaks across my lips when I think about how eating her out is something I _actually_ enjoy doing. It's never been my thing, something I only resorted to for those few girls who wouldn't suck my cock without a little tit for tat, but with Ana, I actually feel a little disappointed when we jump right into things. I can't get enough of the way she moans when I suck her clit, the way her body writhes and tries to escape from me as she inches closer to her orgasm, or the way my name sounds muffled by her thighs when she comes… _Fuck, that woman is sexy_.

After I get out of the shower, I brush my teeth, twice, and then head out into my bedroom, debating whether or not I should bother getting dressed. When I open my bedside drawer and find it empty though, I groan. I forgot I was out of condoms and while I'd love to get the chance to try Anastasia without one, safe sex has always been a hard-and-fast rule with me. My mother has shown Christian and I way too many horrific pictures of dicks covered in blisters and warts for me to fuck around with any of that.

I glance down at my phone to check the time, Ana said she was going to leave her house in 20 minutes and it's about another 20 minutes from here to her apartment, which gives me just enough time to head over to the Rite Aid on the corner to grab a box of Trojans. Feeling a little dejected, I throw on some clothes and head out, but while I'm waiting in line at the pharmacy, my phone rings. My stomach drops as I expect it to be Ana cancelling on me, but I'm relieved when I look down and see Kate's name on the caller ID.

"Hey, uh… baby." I answer awkwardly as I shift the phone between my face and shoulder and move forward in the line. I forget that we're supposed to be _dating_ now.

"Hi." She breathes back in the voice she thinks is sexy but is mostly just hard to understand. "Ana's not home. Wanna come over? We could fuck in the living room. I know how much you like doing that."

 _Only because of the possibility of Ana coming home, finding us, and asking to join in…_

"I'm sorry, babe." I say with false regret. "I can't. A few of the guys are coming over to watch the game."

"So tell them not to." She pouts. "I'm going to Alderbrook with my mom tomorrow and I'm not going to be back until late Monday night."

 _So Ana will be home alone? Excellent._

"I can't baby… I promised them. I'm just at the store getting beer. I'll see you next week though. Have fun with your mom."

"Elli-"

The cashier motions me forward so I quickly hang up the phone and throw the box of condoms on the counter. She gives me the same awkward look I get every time a cashier rings up this sort of purchase, but I ignore it, swipe my debit card through the machine, and then wink at her as I take the bag and exit the store. There's almost a kind of skip in my step as I make my way back down the street to my condo, but I stop dead in my tracks when I get there and see Ana stepping out of a brand new looking Audi on the other side of the street. _What is this?_

"Ana!" I call out to her as she locks the door and turns back towards the street. She looks over, smiles, and then checks that no cars are coming before darting across the wet pavement towards me. I reach down to pull her into me so that I can kiss her but she holds her hand out to stop me and looks quickly around as if checking to see if anyone had noticed.

"Not down here, are you crazy?" She hisses. I roll my eyes and nod to her car.

"Where'd you get that?" She looks over her shoulder at the car, and when she turns to look at me again, she's smirking.

"Your brother bought it for me."

"What? He bought you a car?"

"Uh huh. Turns out my vagina really is magical."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Oh really? What's its power? Making money disappear?"

"Shut the fuck up." She laughs, slapping me across the chest while trying, and failing, to look indignant. She turns around and starts walking back towards the entrance of my condo, but I call out to stop her.

"Wait. Give me your keys."

"My keys?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at me. I nod and hold my hand out for them. She hesitates for a moment, but eventually does place them in my hand, and I turn to the street, darting out behind a BMW as I make my way to her car. She follows me, looking curious as I open the driver's side door, turn the car into accessory mode, and start flipping through the screen in the dash.

"What are you-" She begins, but her voice cuts off when I press the icon for Audi Connect which gives me options for location services.

"Location services?" She gasps, her eyes widening as I flip the electronic toggle off. "He's following my car?"

"Of course he is, Ana. He's a control freak. Why do you think he gave you a car? He has a bodyguard who's essentially his little errand boy and if he wanted you to come to him, he'd just send Taylor to pick you up. He bought you a car so that he would know where you were at all times, not just when you were with him. He did the same thing to Mia when she was in High School. Which is when I learned…" My voice trails off as I flip through a second menu, but when I try to disable the feature, I get an _access denied_ message and a phone number for Audi customer service.

"Fuck."

"What?" She asks.

"There's a parking feature in the GPS system. Every time you turn off and lock your car, it sends a notification to the phone connected to the account with the location of where the car is parked."

"And it's connected to his phone?" She guesses.

"Yep." I nod. "And to change it, you're going to have to call Audi which you won't be able to do because I'm sure the car is in his name."

"So what you're saying is that he knows that I'm here?"

"Sure does." I tell her, getting out of the car. "So we'd better make this quick, huh?"

"Quick? I can't stay, Elliot!" She snaps, reaching for her keys, and I look down at her horrified as I jerk them out of her reach.

"You're going to leave?"

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"But…" I frown. "But I bought condoms. They're ribbed for her pleasure."

"They'll keep." She replies, rolling her eyes. She reaches up for her keys again, but I lift them higher.

"Come on, baby. Don't go. We'll think of something to tell him. Besides, he already knows you're here…"

"Fuck." She hisses, abandoning her attempts to reach her keys and reaching down to dig through her purse.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting him."

"Texting him what?" She doesn't answer me so I step behind her and read over her shoulder.

 **I volunteered to bring Kate over to Elliot's because I just couldn't wait to test drive my new car. It's beautiful, and obviously too much. You're much too generous. Thank you can't be enough, but really. Thank you, Christian. –Ana**

I smile. "See, problem solved. Now, let's go get you naked."

"Elliot…" She hesitates again and I let out a long huff of frustration.

"What?"

"How would you explain me being here any longer than a few minutes? He knows what your relationship with Kate is like, so he knows that this wouldn't be a situation where I could hang out."

I deflate again, my mind racing through excuses, each more and more ridiculous, until I come up with something that might work. "What if you told him that I was watching the Huskies game and Kate made you stay with her until it was over so she wouldn't be bored? That's believable, right?'

"Maybe…" She hesitates.

"I'd believe it, and I'll collaborate the story the next time I see him. I'll tell him how annoying it was having the two of you talking through the whole 4th quarter."

She pushes her lips together in contemplation, so I take a step closer to her, lowering my voice a register when I speak. "Come on, baby. It'll give us an hour and I'll make it worth your while. I promise."

I see a shiver wash over her as her eyes shift down to my mouth and I know I've won. I turn around and she lets out a huff of exasperation and follows after me.

"We're turning on the football game, and I'm leaving the second it's over." She says as I open the door for her and I smirk as she walks past me.

"Sex _and_ football? Am I supposed to see a downside to this?"

Her eyes narrow at me as I push the button to call the elevator, but once she steps inside and the doors close behind us, I'm all over her and her indigence is forgotten. Her hands fly up into my hair as I push her into the elevator wall and cover her body with mine. My hands slip under her shirt while I devour her and when my fingers find the nipple on her right breast, I pinch it tightly and tweak it until I hear her whimper into my mouth. The sound makes me rock fucking hard.

"Grab my dick, Ana." I tell her, tilting my pelvis forward and pressing my erection into her. She moans and then reaches down to grip the bulge in my jeans.

"Feel how hard I am for you, baby?" I ask as I move my lips down her jaw and towards the curve of her neck.

"Yes." She breathes.

"You want it. Don't you, Ana?"

"Yes." She says again, though this time her voice is an octave higher as she gets more and more turned on.

"That's right, baby. God, I can't wait to be inside of you. Make you my little whore for the night."

I reach around to grip onto her ass through her jeans, but my hand is impeded by her phone in her back pocket. I'm going to take it out and slip into the pocket of her hoodie, but before my fingers even close around it. It starts vibrating.

"Wait." She says, reaching back for her phone and I let out a sharp breath as I pull away and lean against the wall next to her, reading the text from Christian over her shoulder.

 **You're very welcome, Anastasia. I'm glad you like it. Since you're not with your friend anymore, come back over here. I still have plans for you and my shower… -Christian**

"Shit." She whispers and I watch her press her lips together again as she decides how to reply.

"Just tell him you'll be over after the game." I say irritably as the elevator pings and the doors on my floor open.

"And what? Go over there smelling like you and condom lube?" She says. "That will be easy to explain…" I turn around to argue with her, but she hasn't gotten off the elevator and the doors start to close. I reach out to stop them and her brow creases.

"What are you doing?"

"I just…" I pause, not sure how to ask her to stay without coming across too needy or desperate. Hell, maybe that's what I'm being. Fuck, what the hell am I doing?

"Look," She begins, her tone placating. "Kate's going on an overnight to some spa with her mom from Sunday to late Monday night, and I don't see Christian during the week. Why don't you come over Monday after work and I'll make this up to you? You can have me all to yourself and we won't have to worry about my car telling Christian where I'm at."

I take a deep breath and nod. It's better than nothing and since nothing is the alternative, I don't really have a choice.

"I'll see you then." She tells me with a coy smile while she reaches out to press the button for the ground floor. I take my hands off the doors and step back, and as the doors close she catches my eye. "Go Huskies." She says, sounding entirely too alluring.

I nod until she's out of my sight, and then rest my forehead against the metal doors. This feels like more than disappointment in missing out on a good fuck, this is… I don't know, but it sucks. I hate that she's leaving, and what's worse is that I _hate_ that I _hate it._

 _What is this girl doing to me?_

 **Christian POV:**

I have a packed schedule Monday morning, but moving from meeting to meeting does little to hold my attention. After lunch I'm scheduled to sit in on an implementation meeting for a new client my company is doing a huge fiber optics overhaul for, but I spend most of the meeting staring blankly at the CEO of that company and his god awful tie. The full Windsor is inappropriately large in the peak of his collar, and there's no dimple beneath the knot. The fabric, which I'm pretty sure is rayon, has some kind of pattern covering it that I can't quite make out through the god awful yellow color. Who the fuck wears yellow?

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, looking away from the offensive garment and out the rain splattered window. The weather is bleak, like my mood. Unfortunately, I know that it isn't this man's horrendous tie, or this meeting, or the seven continuous days of down pouring rain that has me so distracted. It's _her_. It's the memory of her back arching off the bed while she came in my mouth, the sound of my name on her lips while she moaned, the roll of the water and suds over her perfect ass in my shower...

I want to groan as I think of Saturday night. How she was already so wet by the time she'd got back to me, just from anticipating what was to come. She'd been so eager, so willing… her skin was hot beneath my touch and when I did trace my fingers over her body, I'd left a trail of exhilarated goose bumps behind. Her skin is so flawless… hell, her whole body is. I'm obsessed with the way she looks. She's the perfect physical manifestation of my ideal of feminine beauty, and what's more than that, she instinctively reacts in exactly the way I want her to. Her body is mine to control and manipulate and while the pleasure I'd drawn from her was gratifying, I can't wait to see what I can do with pain.

I frown.

This is the part about last weekend that I can't seem to wrap my mind around: the lack of pain. I've never had sex the vanilla way before, I'd never been interested in it. The control, and the restraints, and the torture have always been a necessary addition to the pleasure for me to achieve sexual gratification. The sadist in me feeds off the pain in others and I've never been able to get off without it. Even when I was submissive to Elena, I'd needed to hurt her in some way to find release. But Ana… I'd hardly done more than pull her hair and I came harder than I have in recent memory.

Is it conquest, maybe? The fact that I've sought her out, preyed upon her, and manipulated her all before bedding her? Perhaps this is a new facet to the sexual sadism I hadn't unearthed before because I'd always had my submissive handpicked and delivered. There'd never been a chase before, and now that I've experienced this new high, I can't wait to feel what her complete and utter destruction does to me.

A shiver courses over me as the men around the table start nodding to one another and reaching out to shake hands. The meeting has concluded and while I've missed most of it, Ros seems satisfied by whatever the outcome was. Thankfully, I know Andrea will have taken diligent notes and if this project ever comes up on my radar again, which I doubt, I won't be left clueless.

When I'm finally able to leave the conference room, I head back to my office where I can be free to think of my time inside of the delectable Miss Steele in peace. As gratifying as this weekend was, I still have yet to sample her without a condom and I'm aching for the chance to really get to feel her. So, as I settle down behind my desk, I pull up my calendar and make myself a note to schedule a doctor's appointment for her to have her blood tested and her birth control evaluated. She told me over the weekend that she was on the pill, but I usually require my submissives to get an IUD. I don't trust women and birth control that either has to be taken regularly or that can be easily removed. It's only too simple for them to be either purposefully or unwittingly negligent and land me with eighteen years of child support. I have no interest in settling down and making an honest woman out of anyone. And, I have no interest in being a father.

I also need her to sign an NDA.

I've never been this vulnerable with any woman I've slept with in the past and, as enjoyable as the sex is now, I have serious doubts about how long that's going to last. I need to get her into the red room and to do that, I need a signed NDA. Besides, Leila Williams won't be safely locked away in that psychiatric ward forever, and if she doesn't take those pills I sent her, I'm leaving myself open for exposure.

As I wrap up my day, I page Andrea, ask her to bring me a copy of my standard NDA, and then slip it into the inside pocket of my jacket as I follow Taylor down to the parking garage below GEH.

When I'm in the back of the SUV, I quickly check the app on my phone that tells me Anastasia's car is parked at her apartment complex and then look up at Taylor.

"I need to make a quick stop tonight, Taylor." I tell him.

"Where to, sir?" He asks, looking at me in the rear view mirror.

"Miss Steele's apartment, please."

He nods and turns towards the I-5 South, instead of continuing up 4th Ave towards Escala. When we pull through the gate of Ana's complex, I double check to make sure the Audi I've purchased for her is, in fact, parked in its assigned place. It is, and I can see lights on in her apartment on the third floor, so it doesn't seem to be a mistake that I didn't call ahead.

"Wait here for me." I tell Taylor, and he nods again as I step out of the SUV and into the light, drizzling rain. I quicken my stride as I make my way to the covered stairwell, and once I reach the third floor landing, I peek inside my coat to make sure the NDA remained dry, and then knock on the door. A full minute passes but no one answers, so I knock again. Still, there's nothing, but as I lean over to look through the window next to the door, I see Anastasia scurry out of the hallway and around the corner. She dressed in only a t-shirt and her hair is a chaotic mess. She looks as though she'd just gotten out of bed but, it's only seven thirty. _What is she doing?_

When she sees me through the window, she stops and her eyes widen with shock, but after only a second's pause, she rushes forward and opens the door.

"Christian." She says, her voice echoing the surprise in her eyes. "What are you doing here? I thought weeknights weren't good for you?"

"I thought I'd make some time." I explain. "May I come in?"

"O-of course." She stutters, and she steps aside to let me pass. I wait for her to close the door, but once she turns back to face me, I launch myself at her, pushing her back into the door and attacking her lips with mine. She lets out a small, startled squeal, but once she catches up to me, her body immediately succumbs to my touch. _Good girl._

"I've thought about you all day today." I whisper against her lips. "Have you thought about me?"

"Every second." She says, quickly. I moan and reach under her long t-shirt, finding her completely naked underneath.

"Mmm, what's this?" I ask, as I trace my finger over her hip where I expected her panties to be. "I know you weren't expecting me…"

"I was…" She breathes, her words slightly discombobulated from my kiss. "I was just about to get in the shower."

"Well, don't let me stop you." I tell her, and then pull away so that I can take her hand and lead her back down the hallway towards her bedroom. She follows me willingly but about halfway down the hallway, she glances nervously at her roommate's bedroom. Kavanagh must be in there so I'm going to have to keep Ana quiet.

When we're inside her room, I close the door again and pull her into me, wrapping her in my arms and kissing her deeply as I push her back towards her bed. She falls backwards, looking up at me with desire reflected behind her eyes as I move between her legs.

"I need you to do something for me." I tell her, as I inch my finger up her exposed thigh.

"What?" She breathes.

"I need you to sign something."

Her face goes blank. "Sign something?"

"A non-disclosure agreement." I reach up and pull the folded contract out of my pocket and hold it out for her. She takes it from me, but while she reads over the first few paragraphs, her hands begin to shake.

"You want me to sign an NDA?" She asks.

"I'm afraid my lawyer insists on it." I tell her, reaching into my pocket to retrieve a pen. "Everyone I know has signed one. Business associates, my personal staff, even my family. It's a necessary precaution to protect my business. I'm sorry, but if you don't sign it, I'm afraid our relationship can't go any further."

Her mouth pops open and she stares back at me with disbelief, almost as if she's waiting for some kind of punchline, but I'm being completely serious. I need this from her and I try to reflect that in my expression as I stare back at her. She looks down at the NDA again, and I think she's trying to speak but she seems to be at a loss for words. I wait, and eventually, she's able to pull together some form of coherent thought.

"I don't know, Christian…" She says, hesitantly. "I mean, an NDA? This is a little much, don't you think?"

"I know." I reply, nodding my head even though I feel the exact opposite is true. "But, like I said, I have to protect myself. I'm a public figure and my business is worth billions of dollars. I have to be very careful."

I can see she's still hesitant so I shrug out of my jacket and slowly lower myself onto my knees. My hands move up her legs, spreading her open as I begin to leave a trail of kisses up her thigh. She shudders a little and when I reach the terminus of her legs, I dive right in and begin swirling my tongue around her clitoris. She moans and falls backwards onto the bed, while I sink my tongue inside of her.

"Please, Ana." I whisper, letting my hot breath wash over her. "I couldn't stand to lose you now."

She whimpers and her fingers dig into the sheets. I groan and dive back in, giving her everything I have in my arsenal until I have her just on the brink of release.

"Sign it, Ana." I tell her, more forcibly this time. "Sign it, or this is it."

I can see her teeth sink down into her bottom lip as she wars with herself, but when I pull away, and blow softly over her clitoris, enough to keep her needy but not enough to give her release, she reaches out and scribbles her name on the dotted line. I smile and lean down again, using my fingers now. She clenches around my hand the moment I find her g-spot and as I fuck her with my fingers and suck her clit, she lets go and screams my name as she comes.

I pull my fingers from her, immediately putting them in my mouth to clean her come off of me, and then pull her up so I can force my tongue into her mouth again. She kisses me greedily, her tongue moving against mine with such passion it pisses me off a little. Now that I have her signed NDA, I have the ability to show her who I really am, so I reach up into her hair, yanking it harshly, as I overpower her with my mouth. Once she relents, I ease back, leaving one last, soft kiss on her lips before I pull away.

"Fuck me, Christian." She whispers, her voice full of need.

"I didn't bring any condoms with me." I tell her, feeling a little regretful myself as I pull my jacket back on. "I really had intended to drop by just to see you for a moment. But, I have to get back home. I still have some things to finish up for work."

"Oh…" She says, and again, she bites down on her bottom lip as her eyes shift to the signed NDA on the bed. I reach down and pick it up, slipping it back into my pocket before she can change her mind.

"I'll see you this weekend?"

She nods and then pulls her t-shirt back down as she climbs off the bed. I lean down to kiss her once more, and then turn to leave, but stop once I get to the door.

"Oh, and I'm going to schedule some appointments for you this week. I think it's smart that we both get tested and look into getting you some kind of permanent birth control."

"Oh..." She says, folding her arms over her chest and looking slightly uncomfortable. "Uh… Okay."

I turn back and take her in my arms once more, tilting her chin up so that I can look into her eyes. "I just want to make sure we're being safe." I tell her. "I don't want to have any accidents because I can't keep my hands off of you."

The corner of her mouth ticks up into a half kind of smile, and she nods, looking more reassured. I lean down to kiss her once more and then release her so I can leave. She follows me to the door, and once I'm out on the landing again, I pause to look at her one last time.

"I'll see you on Friday, Anastasia." I promise her.

"Friday." She repeats. "I can't wait."

"Goodbye." I tell her and she raises her hand to wave as she closes the door. I pause for a moment, feeling a slight sense of relief. I have the NDA. Now this thing between us, the thing that I want more than anything else in the world, can really begin. A smile breaks across my face at thought, and when I climb back into the SUV, I drag my tongue over my bottom lip, satisfied that I can still taste her lingering arousal.

 **Ana POV:**

Once I close the door and drop the deadbolt, I feel a sudden blow of disappointment. I signed the NDA and now I've lost part of my plan. I can't expose him. I can't do anything to show the world what he really is… But as I mourn the loss, I know that I didn't have a choice. He backed me into a corner. Blackmail was always secondary to what I'm really trying to do and that's to destroy him the way he destroyed Leila. He told me he couldn't stand to lose me now. He came to see me on a night when he's told me before he has no availability, something made clear by the fact that he immediately had to leave. Between this and the car, I really think I'm getting somewhere, and if giving up exposing him means that I can break _him_ to the point where he'd rather swallow a whole bottle of pills than spend another day without me, then I suppose signing the NDA isn't really much of a sacrifice.

I'm consoled by this thought and as I watch the headlights from Christian's car pull back in the parking lot and then disappear into the night, I feel a strong pair of arms wrap around me from behind.

"That was _my_ orgasm." Elliot says, sounding very affronted. I smirk and turn around to face him, finding him still completely naked.

"He does seem to always be beating you to it." I say, giving him a challenging look. He let's out a deep, sexy growl and pushes me back into the door, pressing his body against mine to pin me in place.

"Well, he's gone now, and Kate won't be home for a few more hours. Why don't we pick up where we left off? He may have forgotten condoms, but I sure as fuck didn't."

"You're a born romantic, Elliot Grey."

He laughs. "Oh, I don't want romance from you, Anastasia."

A small shriek escapes my lips as he lifts me from the ground and throws me over his shoulder. I giggle and reach down to slap his bare ass, and he quickly returns the favor before carrying me off to my shower.


	13. Chapter 13

**Christian POV:**

I despise the holidays. My office is closed so nothing is moving forward today and just the thought of that makes me anxious. Why are all the major holidays at the end of the year? Why can't Thanksgiving be in September, in the middle of the first financial quarter, when I'm not swamped with January 1 RFPs and amping up for the acquisition season? Are we really supposed to believe the pilgrims sat down with the Wampanoag to share a meal at the end of fucking November? Perhaps that's why they all died of disease...

I pace back and forth through my parents' living room, checking my email for anything that might have come through but there's nothing. Not even from Ros, and I know she's just as irritated by holiday closure as I am.

"Christian, we're ready in here." My mother tells me, taking a sip of the sauvignon blanc I'd brought this evening. It's her second glass and I can already tell by the end of the night, she's going to be a disaster. I hate being around intoxicated people. They're sloppy, loud, and lack any form of control. It's why I have it spelled out in black and white that any submissive under contract with me shall not drink to excess.

I frown.

Anastasia isn't under contract and, from what she's said to me about her mother, I've gathered that she'll be spending the holiday alone. It sounds like the perfect recipe for drinking all day and the thought peaks my irritation. When I glance down at my phone though, and check my app to verify that her car is, at the very least, still parked at home, it comes up N/A. The car isn't parked at all. She's driving it…

"Christian." My mother presses me again. I take a deep breath and turn to look at her.

"I'm just checking on a few last things. I'll be right there, Mom."

"Well, wrap it up. You know how I feel about you working when you're supposed to be spending time with your family."

"Just a few more minutes." I reassure her. She nods, but gives me a serious look as she turns back into the dining room to rejoin the rest of my family. I wait until she's gone and then flip back into the Audi app to check the GPS on the car, but when I get into location services it tells me the feature is inactive.

 _What the fuck?_

My entire body tenses with anger as I stare down at the screen of my phone. Did she turn it off? How would she even know to do that? And _why_ would she do that? Is she hiding something?

Suddenly, the anger is washed away by a cold shiver of trepidation.

 _Leila._

What if she's going to Leila Williams? She's in the hospital, spending the holiday alone… It's not out of the realm of possibility that Ana would visit her best friend on a holiday. And if she has, what if Leila's told Anastasia the reason she took the pills that landed her in the hospital in the first place?

"Christian." Elliot says, interrupting my moment of panic. "Dude, let's eat."

"I'll be there in a minute, Elliot." I say sharply, but he doesn't retreat. Elliot was never one to cower away from me, even when I've been malicious or cruel towards him. No matter how intimidating my success has made me to others, even those in my own family, Elliot still sees me as his little brother and he looks for opportunities to show me that, because he's older, he's in charge.

"I wasn't asking about your schedule." He says. "Get the fuck in here. Mom needs to get some food in her stomach to absorb all of this wine she's throwing back or she's going to pass out. Or worse, start making out with Dad again like she did last Easter."

I grit my teeth, and glance back down at my phone. I want to call Anastasia and find out where she is, but I suppose she'll have to park sometime, and when she does, I'll have my answer.

"Fine." I agree. I turn up the volume on my phone so I'll hear the notification from the Audi app, and then follow my brother into the formal dining room.

While my parents' housekeeper tops off each of our wine glasses, my father starts carving into the turkey and my mother passes serving dishes full of potatoes and dressing around the table. I take the opportunity to check the screen on my phone while my mother says grace, but there's still nothing.

"So, how's business, son?" My father asks once the prayer is finished and everyone else has started eating. Again, I take a calming breath as I tear my eyes away from my phone and turn to answer him.

"I've just acquired a mining business that is projected to bring in millions just based on land rights alone. Their most active mine rests on one of the largest coal depositories in North America."

"And they still went under?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Poor management, no vision." I explain quickly, and he smiles.

"Well, if that's all that's missing, you're the perfect man to take the helm, Son."

My phone vibrates in my hand, followed by an electronic beep, and as I look down again, I finally see the notification from Audi.

"I'm going to sell it." I tell my father dismissively, and thankfully Mia jumps into the conversation to talk about some trip she's planning with her friends. I've never been so grateful for her inability to not be the center of attention in my life.

As inconspicuously as possible, I open the app under the table and look at the address where the car is parked. I don't recognize it, but when I zoom out on the map, I can tell that she's nowhere near Fairfax Psychiatric Facility, where Leila is currently residing. Still, I don't like that I don't know where she is or who she's with.

Mia still has a captive audience, so I quickly copy the address and send it to Taylor, asking him to find out who lives there. When he replies, the panic surges again.

 **Owners: Philip and Katherine Williams. Leila William's parents. -T**

Fuck! Did the hospital release Leila for the holiday? Shit, why hadn't I considered that a possibility until now? I was under the impression she was still under full observation, which is why I hadn't really thought much about not hearing anything yet about the pills I sent her. If she's home though, and Anastasia is there…

"Excuse me, I need to make a phone call." I tell my family as I get out of my chair and make my way back into the living room. I can see my mother open her mouth to protest, but my father slowly reaches over to place his hand on her arm, shaking his head in an almost condescending fashion as I leave the room.

There isn't enough noise coming from the dining room for me to feel comfortable calling Anastasia from just outside the room, so I slip back into my father's office and close the door before quickly dialing her number. It rings, and rings... and rings, and I feel my anger pulsing hotter with each drawn out sound. _Pick up the fucking phone, Anastasia._

"Hello?" She answers, at last.

"Where are you?" I snap, remembering too late that she isn't my submissive and, since this relationship is still so new, I shouldn't be talking to her this way.

"I'm at a friend's house." She answers. "For Thanksgiving…"

"Which friend?" I cut her off, and she hesitates for a moment.

"Uh… well, it's my friend, um…" She stuttering, clearly flustered by the question and her hesitation makes my gut clench. This alone would earn her swift retribution in my playroom but as it is, I can only sit here and listen to her stammer. "It's my friend Leila's parents' house." She answers at last. "Leila had an accident a few weeks ago and she's still in the hospital. Phil and Kathy were the closest thing I had to real parents growing up, I didn't want them to be alone on Thanksgiving."

 _Alone?_ Relief crashes over me as the confirmation of Leila's absence means that my darkest secrets are safe, for now, but that solace quickly begins to ebb away when I'm forced to analyze a new problem I hadn't put much thought into before. Anastasia is close to Leila's family, I'd witnessed this firsthand when I watched Leila's father hug her outside the ICU the morning I'd gone to remind Leila to keep her fucking mouth shut. It means that, even though Leila isn't home now, once she is released, Anastasia will _definitely_ be there to greet her. Surely, Ana is exactly the friend she'd turn to to talk about everything that had happened to her that drove her to suicide, and while I have Ana's signed NDA so I no longer have to worry about exposure, Leila's confession could derail my whole plan and all of the time and effort I've invested in Ana will have all been for nothing.

"Christian?" Ana asks, when I don't immediately respond to her.

"I'm sorry," I lie, quickly. "It's just… Taylor saw a car remarkably similar to yours in a bad area of town and I was worried about you. I don't like not knowing that you're safe."

"Oh, well… I'm very safe here." She promises, sighing with relief. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. Enjoy your Thanksgiving. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You too. Bye" She says.

"Good bye." I hang up the phone and rest my head against the wall, trying to plan my next move, but, unfortunately, with Leila in a locked ward, there isn't much I can do. Hopefully, she takes the pills in the flower and I won't have to worry about any of this. Since that's not an outcome I can fully count on though, I resolve to keep a closer eye on her while she's in the hospital, and, once she's released, I'll make sure she has nothing more to do with Anastasia.

I pull out my phone one last time and type out a quick text for Taylor.

 **I want surveillance on Leila Williams. If anything changes about her status, I want to know about it immediately. -Christian.**

Only thirty seconds pass before my phone vibrates with his response.

 **Yes, sir. -T**

I look down at the text and finally feel pacified. Nothing has been blown yet and with Taylor as my eyes and ears, nothing will be. I can out maneuver Leila Williams, of that I'm sure. In fact, if she does try and play games with me or stop me in anyway, I will make the consequences for Anastasia that much worse.

 _Fuck with me Leila Williams, and I will give you a front row seat to the complete and utter destruction of Anastasia Steele._

 **Ana POV:**

"Thank you again for having me, Phil." I say, as he walks to me to front door of his house. "Seriously, when my mom told me that she and Bob were spending Thanksgiving in the Bahamas, I kind of had a breakdown. I don't know why it's still this hard every time she shows me how much she doesn't care if I'm around or not."

"Not to mention, you're drowning in student loan debt and she's off jet setting every other month." He says bitterly. I frown, feeling a dull ache building in my throat as I fight back the tears that threaten to spring up basically every time I have to think about my mother, and he gives me a warm smile. "You're always welcome here, Ana. You know that Kathy and I consider you our daughter just as much as Leila. We love you, kiddo."

"I love you too." I tell him. He opens his arms for me and I step into them, gratefully, squeezing him tightly as he leans down and kisses the top of my hair. "Let me know if you hear anything more about how Leila's doing?"

"I will, and call me when you get back so I know you got home safe, okay?" I nod and then wave as I turn around for the Audi parked on the street against the curb. Once I'm in the car, I wave one more time at Phil and then start down the street. Before I even pull onto the freeway though, the car tells me that I have an incoming call through the speakers. _Oh shit._ This hasn't happened yet and I'm not entirely sure how to work the bluetooth through the car...

I look around wildly for a light or something that will tell me what to do, and my eyes fall on a button on the steering wheel with a small picture of a phone on it. I press it tentatively and the ringing stops.

"Hello?" I ask cautiously.

"Hey, Ana." Elliot's voice answers, he's whispering like he's trying to keep someone from hearing him.

"Hey, what's going on? How was your Thanksgiving?"

"It's fine." He replies dismissively. "My mom is drunk on wine and Christian's been an asshole all night, but it's fine. Listen, Kate told me this morning she wanted to try and hook up tonight, but she just called me and said that she had too much to drink so her parents are making her spend the night at their house. Are you at home?"

"I'm on my way there now." I tell him.

"Good. Then make sure you've got that pussy ready to go, because I'm going to fuck the shit out of you in about an hour."

My thighs clench together involuntarily in response to his words and I feel my teeth sink into my bottom lip as I try to contain my smile. "Well, if that's what you have to do, Elliot. Who am I to stop you?"

"You're so fucking sexy, Anastasia. God, I'm hard just thinking about you. See you soon, baby." The phone goes dead and I take a deep breath to subdue my excitement as I signal for the onramp to the I-5 South.

The second I get home, I send Kate a text, just to double check that she really isn't coming home tonight and didn't just say that to Elliot to try and blow him off. She isn't though and the second she sends me confirmation, I begin stripping out of my clothes and making my way for the shower. I'm diligent as I shave, wanting to make sure I'm perfect. The nights when Kate isn't here always opens up a whole new realm of possibilities. There's no sneaking around, no trying to be silent while Elliot fucks me in the back of my closet… He can lay me out over the island in the kitchen if I want him to… In fact, that doesn't seem like a bad idea.

When I'm finished, I hop out of the shower and lotion everything I can reach before heading into my closet. I wish I had some kind of lingerie to put on so that I could open the door looking like sex, but I don't. Instead, I pull out my sluttiest pair of underwear to go with the bra that gives my boobs the best lift, then thrown on the tightest pair of jeans I own and a shirt with buttons that he can undo one at a time. I do love watching him take off my clothes…

Once I'm dressed, I head back into the bathroom to brush my teeth again, touch up my makeup and re-brush and shake out my hair. I'm just applying a coat of lip balm when I hear the knock on the front door that seems to reverberate in my groin. Excitement takes over as I throw the balm back in my makeup bag and practically sprint for the front door. The second it's open, Elliot's lips are on mine. His hands cup the sides of my face as he pushes me back into the apartment and slams the door closed behind him. We stand there in the entryway, his mouth almost vicious in the way it claims mine, his tongue ravenous as it explores my mouth.

I whimper slightly when his hand moves from the side of my face and into my hair, gripping it tightly and tugging so that he pulls me away from his mouth.

"Get on your knees." He practically growls. There is a fire burning behind his eyes that sends a flaming wave of heat down my body and I immediately comply with his command. I love it when he's like this…

My fingers hastily work his belt and the buttons and zipper on the slacks he's wearing, and while I reach into his boxers to pull out his cock, he reaches behind him to lock the deadbolt on the door.

My lips wrap around him, sucking and licking around the head of his cock until he reaches into my hair and forces me down on him.

"Come on, baby." He cajoles me. "Suck my fucking cock. That's it, that's it… oh god, Ana, your mouth is so fucking good."

I hum my approval at his dirty words as I pull him out of my mouth, lick his entire length and then envelop him once more. His groans are like fuel to the fire I feel beginning to burn between my legs as my need for him grows. He starts thrusting forward, his hands gripping my hair on either side of my head, holding me in place, while I stare up into the fiery intensity behind his eyes.

"Enough." He says after about a minute. "I want to be inside you."

His hands reach down to my arms and I squeal as he yanks me up off the ground and lifts me into the air so that I can wrap my legs around his waist while he carries me back to my bedroom. He kisses me again, moaning into my lips as we fall backwards onto my bed. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying to hold back my satisfied smile as his fingers begin undoing each of the buttons on my shirt, and once he gets past my bra, he buries his face into my cleavage, licking and nipping the swell of my breasts. My eyes roll back, as I tilt my hips up, trying desperately to find friction against him. Before I make contact though, my phone begins ringing on the bedside table and I freeze. Elliot looks over at it, and his face immediately hardens.

"It's Christian." He says.

"Just ignore it." I reply, my voice still breathy with need, and I reach up to pull his face back down to mine, pushing my tongue past his lips while my phone sends Christian's call to voicemail. He moans into me and once again his hands begin to travel down to the buttons on my jeans, but before he can begin to tug them down, the phone rings again.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Elliot says angrily, glaring over at my phone and I give him an apologetic look.

"Hold on." I say, "Let me just make sure he isn't coming over here again." Elliot frowns at me and shakes his head with irritation but leans down to kiss my stomach while I pick up the phone and answer it.

"Hi, Christian." I say, trying to keep my voice even as Elliot tugs down my jeans.

"Hi. How was dinner?"

"Fine, yours?" I ask.

"It was… what I expected it to be. I-" He pauses. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I'm just… a little overprotective."

"Oh that's…" My voice cuts off as I let out a silent moan. Elliot is sucking on my toe… "That's alright, Christian. I like that you were worried about me. It makes me feel good knowing that you care."

"I really do care, Ana." He tells me, and then changes the subject. "What are you doing?"

"Just… Just hanging out at home." I reply. Fuck, my voice is way too high, too needy.

"You know, I was thinking about you a lot tonight." Christian says.

"You were?"

"Oh, yes. I won't see you until tomorrow, and I can hardly wait. I spent the whole evening replaying that blow job you gave me in my office last week over and over again in my mind. Your lips look absolutely perfect when they're wrapped around my cock, Anastasia."

I freeze. _Holy shit…_ I look down at Elliot, who is looking up at me like he can't figure out what I'm doing, so I hold a finger up for him and mouth _one second._

"You think so?" I reply, the muscles inside of me clenching as Elliot moves up and runs his tongue over my exposed thigh.

"Oh yes, Miss Steele." Christian says. "I can't tell you how much I enjoyed that afternoon. Almost as much as I'm going to enjoy tonight."

"Tonight?" I squeak, and Elliot stops and looks up at me with panic.

"Are you alone right now?" Christian asks.

"O-of course I am." I lie, instinctively looking around the room like I'm worried he's hidden somewhere and watching everything his brother is doing to me.

"Where's Katherine?"

"She's staying at her parents' tonight."

"Good." He says, "Then lay down on your bed and do everything I ask you to."

I pull the microphone on the phone away from my mouth, exhale with relief, and then put the phone on mute. "He wants to have phone sex." I tell Elliot.

"Son of a bitch." Elliot hisses. "I just want one fucking night…" I give him an apologetic look, but suddenly, his expression changes, like he's just had a realization or something.

"Do it." He says, "Turn the volume up on the phone so I can hear him and know what to do."

"What?" I ask him.

"He's going to think it's him getting you off tonight, Anastasia, but it won't be. I'm going to fuck you while he's in your ear. Your pleasure is going to be from me, not from him."

I press my lips together, uncertain, but when he leans down and runs his nose up my panties, all of the protest drains out of me and I turn the volume up as high as it will go and then unmute the phone.

"Okay, I'm in my bed." I tell Christian.

"What are you wearing?" he asks.

"Just my bra and panties." I reply, and he lets out a low moan of approval.

"Are you taking advantage of Katherine being gone or did you know that I would call you tonight?"

"A girl can hope." I tell him.

"What bra are you wearing?" He asks. "Describe it to me."

"It's low cut, lace, white…"

"The one you were wearing the first night I fucked you?"

"Yes." I smile, and he groans.

"That did make your tits look absolutely fantastic. If I remember right, it was a little too small for you. It barely covered those perfect little nipples of yours."

"It's doing an even worse job of that now." I tell him.

"Good." He says in a low husky voice. "Reach down and pinch them for me."

Elliot smirks and his hands move up to my breasts. He pulls the cups down slightly, fully exposing each of my nipples, and then he captures them between his index finger and thumb.

"Harder, Anastasia." Christian commands and I small cry escapes my lips as Elliot tightens his fingers. "That's it, baby. Are they hard for me?"

"So hard." I whine.

"Good, now take your fingers on your right hand and put them in your mouth, I want to hear you sucking on them."

Elliot moves his hand away from my breast and pushes his fingers into my mouth. I lavish my tongue over them, sucking loudly so that Christian can hear me through the phone.

"God, that's such a sexy fucking sound, Anastasia." Christian says. "Now, I want you to slowly slide your fingers back down to your nipples, and pinch them again."

"Ah!" I cry, as Elliot does what Christian has asked of me.

"That's it baby, pinch it harder. Pull on it. I want you to imagine that those wet little fingers of yours are my mouth, licking you, biting you, and sucking on you."

Elliot's fingers clamp down around my nipple, twisting them and tugging on them until I cry out. He smirks and the licks my stomach, gently nipping at me, while he continues to listen for his next instruction. Fuck, if Christian doesn't start with the good stuff soon, I might combust.

"Mmm, I love listening to you moaning, baby." Christian purrs in my ear. "Almost as much as I enjoyed the sound of you sucking on those fingers of yours. I have my cock in my hand right now, why don't you put those fingers back in your mouth and suck them again so I can imagine your lips around me while I stroke my cock."

Elliot smiles and then rolls off of me, crawls up the bed so that his knees are by my shoulder, and then he leans over, supporting his weight on my headboard while his hand guides his dick to my mouth. I smile and then wrap my lips around him, sucking loudly and coating him in my saliva.

"Oh that's it, Ana." Christian says, letting out a long, drawn out moan. "Fuck, I've missed your mouth. That's the first thing I'm going to have this weekend. I might even fuck those beautiful tits, let you suck my cock while I squeeze them around the rest of me. Oh fuuuuuck, Ana."

Elliot's face tightens as I suck him a little harder, take him a little deeper into my mouth, and that combined with Christian's moans through the phone creates an explosion of need inside of me. I've never been more turned on in my life, knowing Christian is jacking off to me on the other end of the phone, and Elliot is hard and ready in my mouth. I'm being driven mad by the lust blooming inside of me, so much so that I'm even getting off on the idea of Christian unknowingly masturbating to the sounds of me fucking his brother. It's wrong, forbidden, but so, so fucking hot.

"Okay, that's enough." Christian says at last, and Elliot pouts a little as he takes his cock out of my mouth. "I want you to come with me, so you're going to have to start playing with that tight little pussy of yours."

I look up at Elliot, who wags his eyebrows suggestively at me and then moves down in between my legs.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask Christian.

"Why don't you start by running your hands over your thighs, bring them slowly up to your panties."

"Okay." I say, my voice quivering as Elliot's hands inch their way up my legs.

"How wet are you, Anastasia?" Christian asks. "Can you feel it through your panties?"

"Oh yes." Elliot mouths at me. "So fucking wet."

"I can feel it." I whisper into the phone.

"Good." Christian says. "Then if I was there, I would want to see how wet you actually were, so you're going to have to take your panties off."

I lift my hips off the bed so that Elliot can pull my panties off of me and once they're gone, he stares down at me with a hunger I haven't seen before.

"Don't touch yourself yet." Christian tells me. "Just spread your legs and hold them open. Pretend I'm there, looking down at you. Admiring the absolute perfection of your pussy, Anastasia."

Elliot nods, looking nearly mesmerized as his eyes remain fixated on me. His tongue moves over his lips and there is almost a pained look on his face as he refrains from touching me.

"I wonder if you taste as good as I remember?" Christian growls. "Maybe you can tell me. Reach down and touch yourself. I want you to get your juices all over your fingers and then put them in your mouth and tell me how good you taste."

Elliot doesn't hesitate. He lowers himself down to me and his lips make contact with my clitoris. Every muscle south of my navel immediately clenches, and my legs tighten around the sides of his head as his tongue assaults me. A gasp breaks through my lips as he pushes one finger, and then another inside of me.

"Does that feel good, Anastasia?" Christian asks.

"So fucking good." I moan.

"Taste yourself baby. Put your fingers in your mouth and tell me how delectable you are."

Elliot pulls his fingers out of me and then reaches them up to my mouth. While his lips and tongue continue to work their magic on me, I suck greedily on his fingers. Tasting my arousal and moaning my approval.

"Tell me how you taste, baby." Christian tells me.

"So good." I moan, as my tongue dances around Elliot's fingers.

"You always do." Christian says. "Are you ready to be fucked baby?"

"Oh god, yes." I reply.

"Do you have something you can use to do that?" He asks, and Elliot breathes an _almost_ silent laugh into my vagina.

"Oh, I think I have just the thing." I say coyly.

"Good, take it out."

Elliot leaves a lingering kiss on my clitoris before pulling away and removing his jeans the rest of the way. He takes a condom out of pocket and rolls it on.

"Are you ready?" Christian asks.

"I'm unbelievably ready." I reply, and Elliot nods in agreement.

"You're such a dirty girl, Anastasia. I love that. I really, really love that." I can hear that his breathing is getting heavier and I wonder if he's starting to get close. I suppose that's a good thing. With all this build up, I know I'm not going to last long.

"Oh fuck, Anastasia." Christian says, his voice strained now. "Put it inside of you, baby. Fuck yourself for me."

Elliot thrusts forward and I groan loudly as I feel the deep, satisfying feeling of him stretching me open for him.

"How does that feel baby?" Christian asks. "Tell me how much you love it."

"Oh god, it's so fucking good!" I cry out as Elliot pulls back and slams forward again.

"Of course it is. That's my cock inside of you baby. Feel it. Fuck yourself the way I would fuck you."

Elliot smirks, shakes his head, and then lifts one of my legs over his shoulder so that he can thrust deeper inside of me. I growl a deep, throaty sound, full of the feral need that is burning inside of me.

"Fuck, Ana." Christian hisses. "Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck yourself hard baby. Fuck yourself as hard as you can. Come on my cock."

"Yes, fuck me harder!" I scream. Elliot pulls out of me, flips me onto my stomach, pulls my ass into the air, and then plunges inside of me again. I groan and start gasping for air as I begin building towards my orgasm.

"Are you close, baby?" Christian asks.

"Yes. Oh god, I'm so close." I tell him. Elliot continues to move in and out of me, his fingers digging harshly into my ass, as he ravages me. I worry for a moment that Christian will be able to hear his body slapping against mine, but my breathing and occasional screams are so loud, I doubt he can hear anything else.

I know I'm not going to last long so I squeeze my muscles around Elliot, hoping to push him closer to the edge so that he can erupt with me and it seems to work. His fingers grip onto me and he begins pulling me back against him, forcing me to fuck him back as he viciously pounds into me.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" I scream into the phone and Christian growls.

"Tell me when you're coming, Anastasia." He says. "I want to hear it when you come."

I'm panting, losing myself in the relentless rhythm that Elliot has set. I'm so lost I have to actively keep reminding myself not to lose my grip on my phone. To not scream Elliot's name as he drives me closer and closer to the edge.

He pushes himself inside of me, as deep as he can and then moves his hips around as he leans over my back so that his lips are against my free ear.

"I'm about to come, Ana." He whispers, and I moan. His warning is like the final spark that lights the fuse to my impending orgasm, and I feel the quivering begin. Elliot leans back onto his knees and starts fucking me as hard as he can again, and the quivering morphs into deep, pleasure filled spasms as I begin to come around him.

"Oh fuck!" I scream. "Shit… yes! I'm coming. Oh god, I'm coming!"

Christian growls. After a few seconds of labored breathing, I hear him let out a deep, satisfied moan, and just as I feel the faint ripple of Elliot finding release inside of me, Christian says, "Fuck, I'm coming too, baby."

"Yes, come for me!" I cry, and Elliot reaches down, grips my hair, and roughly yanks my head to the side so that I'm forced to look at him while he pours himself into me.

When he's finished, Elliot doesn't pull out of me. Instead, he pushes me down onto the bed and collapses on top of me. His hand captures my chin, forcing my mouth open, and he puts his tongue in my mouth, gently massaging my own tongue with his.

"That was so hot, Anastasia." Christian tells me.

"Yes." I reply, looking into Elliot's eyes. "It was."

"I have to go." he says. "But once I hang up the phone I want you to take a picture of your pussy and send it to me. I want to see it now that it's just been fucked."

Elliot smiles and I have to hold back a laugh. "Okay." I agree.

"Goodnight, baby." Christian says.

"Goodnight." I reply and I hang up the phone. Elliot immediately reaches over, takes the phone out of my hand, and moves down between my legs.

"Roll over on your back." He instructs me, and I do as he says. He presses his hands into my thighs, spreading my legs apart, and I hear the sound of the camera as he takes a picture. A vindictive smile crosses his face as his fingers press into the screen and I assume he texts the picture to Christian. Once he's finished, he throws the phone aside, lays over the top of me again, and his lips find mine once more.

"Happy Thanksgiving." He whispers.

"Happy Thanksgiving." I reply, and after a long, deep kiss, he slides down my body to take a second helping.


	14. Chapter 14

**Christian POV:**

I clench my fists tightly, trying to dissipate the sudden onslaught of anger fueled adrenaline that is now coursing through my system due to the email I just received. Leila has been downgraded from the 24-hour-watch sect of her psych hospital. That can only mean she's doing better. Seriously, what is it going to take with this fucking girl?

I click through a few other emails, but there's nothing especially pressing to do, nothing worthy of distracting me from my hyper annoyed mood. It gives me the itch to get up and get out of my office for a while, maybe work off some of this excess energy in a physical way. The ideal route would involve me being balls deep inside of Ana, but _of-fucking-course_ she's busy this afternoon. I barked up that tree this morning and she said she'd be with a friend all afternoon. That's what led to the two hours I'd already spent at the gym today. I do debate going back down for another workout, but I just don't feel like it. Surprisingly, this is a rare occasion when I'm actually desiring some human interaction. And since I genuinely find most people to be tedious and exhausting, I have very few options of who I can pleasantly spend some time with. Fortunately one of the few people in this world who doesn't annoy the fuck out of me is a permanent fixture in my life- my brother.

I stop off at the utility closet and grab the keys to one of my less conspicuous cars to take to his place. I do like to show off the ultra luxury vehicles to my jealous big brother from time to time, but today I want to feel as close to lowbrow as possible, to just be one of the normal people driving around on the road. I pick the fob to the Cadillac CTS I have stashed for clients temporarily residing in the apartment I own here at Escala and head toward the elevator, dismissing Taylor when he inevitably comes poking his head out, silently questioning if he is needed.

As I make my way through the streets toward West Seattle, it really sinks in how much I am actually looking forward to this time with my brother. Elliot is a lot of things. He's a cocky son of a bitch, that's certain. There's no denying that he attracts pussy with the best of them. I'm used to the female population fawning over me, and the only person I've ever seen come close to rivaling the attention I get is my big brother. But where I have the whole dark, brooding thing working for me, he can charm the panties off any woman of his choosing. He's not consumed by vanity, but does work hard to maintain his physique, even though he likes to pretend he rolls out of bed built the way he is. He plays the all-American-good-boy routine to a fucking T, throwing out easy lines, flashing that shit-eating grin. And those are just the tools in his arsenal he uses to get laid.

If he was ever really interested in a girl for more than a hole to stick his dick in, he is actually a really fucking good guy. He's smart. Brilliant, really. His eye for architecture is immaculate. He chose the exact right career path to follow in life, but he took it a step further and went into business for himself rather than just working for a prestigious firm. And he's excelled at it, despite my hesitance in believing in him at first. I wasn't sure he would take it as seriously as he needed to, but business-Elliot is way different than everyday-Elliot.

Honestly, I'm proud as fuck of him, even if I've never told him that.

At the end of the day, I genuinely love my brother. He's on the very short list of people I trust in this world. He's always made it crystal clear that he would be there for me if I ever needed him, and I truly believe him when he tells me so. He's always treated me like a regular guy, like his little brother Christian, not the untouchable CEO Christian Grey. And as much as I want to be that guy to everyone else in the world, it's nice, at the end of the day, to have someone in my life who I know isn't just another sycophantic kiss-ass 'yes man' willing to say whatever I want to hear. Elliot tells it to me straight, no matter the anticipated reaction, and he makes no apologies for it.

When I was growing up, it's no secret that I put our parents through the ringer. Between the stress of raising their teenage reigning Grey princess and dealing with shitstorm after shitstorm that I created, Carrick and Grace's relationship with Elliot took a hit because he was an easy-going, responsible kid by comparison. He was good in school, smart, relatively respectful when he needed to be. He kept his average teenage exploits lowkey, never getting into so much trouble that he couldn't get out of it himself. He was the easy, self sufficient child while I was a wreck and Mia was a primadonna who got preferential treatment because she was the baby, and the only girl. But Elliot seemed to understand his role in the family, never holding it against me that the good things he did went unnoticed because they were paying too much attention to cleaning up my mistakes.

They say blood is thicker than water, and Elliot and I don't share the same blood, but I know there is a unbreakable bond between us, a deep connection that both of us uphold with the utmost respect. He's more than a brother to me, more than a friend. He is the most trusted person in my life, and I don't always nourish that relationship the way I should.

Driving up Alki beach, I find a space to park on the street near Elliot's building, I can't help but roll my eyes at the parking situation. I don't know why he's so complacent at this place. He could do so much better. I know for a fact he makes plenty of money to be able to afford something much better than this run of the mill condo I've brought it up before, and he says he's a simple guy and has everything he needs here, but I can't for the life of me understand why anyone would settle for less than the best. He doesn't even have a fucking parking garage. He just parks his car on the street, which is exactly what I'm forced to do at this moment. It almost pains me to do it too, even when I'm only driving the shit Cadillac. But it's still a better car than most of the other ones out here, and I find myself scanning the surrounding area, eyeing the people on the waterfront. Most of these people would probably give their left nut for this piece of shit. Leaving the R8 at home was definitely the right choice.

I hit the buzzer for his condo and wait, but he doesn't answer. I'm about to try again when I see someone coming toward the door, and I decide to see if I can get them to let me in. It's a woman, so I know my odds increase immediately if I play my cards right. Women are so easy.

When she opens the door, I catch her eye, then flash her a killer smile.

"You think I can get in? My brother isn't answering the buzzer," I say, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb at the speaker box.

"Who's your brother?" she asked, glancing at the box, then back at me for a moment, like she's testing whether or not to believe me.

"Elliot Grey."

I see a small grimace, and immediately I suspect my big brother has been inside of this girl and probably never called her again.

"Elliot. Yeah, I'm sure he can't hear the intercom buzzer over the sound of his headboard hitting the wall we share," she spits bitterly before holding the door open.

She's gone before I can formulate a reply, which is fine because I don't know what I'd say to that anyway. I debate leaving, but I came all the way out here and really don't want to go back home, so I decide I'll play dumb to the fact that he's getting laid and try and guilt him into coming out anyway.

I take the elevator up to his floor, pausing to see if I can hear anything before I knock. I'm pretty sure I hear a low, rhythmic thumping and I bite back a grin. It reminds me of when we were kids and I used to fuck up his chances with girls as often as I could, lying and saying our parents were home early, or asking if he'd 'gotten that rash cleared up yet' before he even got the girl upstairs. For all the times I was an angry, loner teenager, those times with Elliot made me feel normal, like I had a normal sibling relationship. It was a badge of honor as his brother to ruin his night.

I knock on the door and wait but he doesn't come, so I knock again, but harder and for longer. Finally I hear movement, then a low voice shouting something that sounds like, " _Jesus fucking Christ_ ," before the door is yanked open angrily and Elliot is standing in front of me, butt fucking naked, except for his socks, with a throw pillow placed strategically over his junk. I immediately cringe at the idea that my brother doesn't even have the decency to take his socks off during sex, but try not to think about it and just raise and eyebrow at him.

"Christian," he says, clearly surprised, his voice revealing the fact that he's slightly breathless. Either he was really giving it to whoever he has stashed away in there, or, as I've suspected for some time, he neglects cardio during his workouts and focuses solely on vanity muscles while lifting at the gym. "Uh, hey… I've uh, got someone," he says, nodding his head back toward the direction of his room.

"Yeah, I gathered that," I say. "I was just wondering if you wanted to grab lunch or something. But since you're clearly _busy_ , I guess I can just try Ana instead." I can't, I know. She's busy. But I'm working the guilt card here.

"No!" Elliot says, his hand slipping as he drops the pillow for a moment. I turn my head and cringe slightly as the picture of his dick is now seared into my mind. He quickly regroups, having the grace to actually look embarrassed. "No, you never come out here. Give me twenty minutes to get rid of the girl and rinse off in the shower real quick. I'll meet you at the coffee shop on the corner, okay?"

I chuckle and nod in agreement, actually flattered that he'd ditch pussy for me so willingly. I don't know that I'd do the same. Actually, I do know, and I wouldn't. But Elliot is a better man than me.

 **Elliot POV:**

I close the door as soon as Christian turns to leave, still shocked that he was here. He was probably the very last person I ever would have expected to be standing there when I opened that door. I assumed it was Cassie or Candy or Carrie or whatever the neighbor's name is from next door, who I bordem fucked literally months ago and who still hasn't gotten over the fact that that's all she was to me. If not her, maybe the super, or even _Kate_ , but not Christian. He's never even been to my place before. I'm surprised he even knew where it was. Actually, he might not have. He probably had one of his goons run a background check on me just to get my address. That's much more believable.

Tossing the pillow back onto the couch, I quickly make my way back to the bedroom. I was only moments away from coming when Christian's relentless knocking interrupted us, and obviously went soft the moment I saw it was my baby brother behind the door, but now the idea of said brother showing up while I was in the middle of fucking his girl has me stiff again. After all, _I'm_ the one with the beautiful, naked, sweaty Anastasia Steele spread out on his bed, flushed and panting from the orgasm I managed to give her before being forced to pull out and leave her there to answer the door.

I watch her head loll in my direction as I come back through the door, ripping another condom from the strip so I can replace the one I yanked off on my way to the door. I think about what it would be like to be inside of her without one and I get even harder. I've always been adamant about not riding bareback before, but these last couple of times with Ana I've noticed an increasing desire to feel her without the barrier. I shake off the thought, though, knowing it's not a wise idea.

.

She tilts her head up a little and spreads her legs, letting me know she's questioning who was at the door while simultaneously inviting be back inside of her to finish what we left off.

"Christian," I say with a shrug as I roll the condom on, licking my lips at the sight of her still very wet and waiting pussy. God, I could fuck this girl all day. Hell, I was planning on it, but now I have to try and fit in one last O for her, while getting mine, before I have to be down at the coffee shop to meet my brother.

But the moment his name leaves my lips, her legs slam closed like a steel trap. She's up and off the bed, panic evident in her eyes and body language as she grabs her clothes and starts dressing immediately.

 _No no no no fuck no._

"Hey, hey, hey," I say quickly, "Stop, stop, stop. I agreed to meet him at the coffee shop in twenty minutes. We have plenty of time to finish." I almost hate the desperate lilt to my voice. I don't ever remember being whipped by pussy like this before.

"No way, Elliot," she dismisses me, and I feel the ache in my balls like she got down on her knees and addressed them personally. We'd been fucking around for the last hour and I gave her two orgasms but hadn't gotten mine yet. She wasn't really planning on leaving me hanging here, was she?

"Ana, come on…" I try pathetically as she slides her jeans up over her sexy hips and secures the button. I feel like I'm watching her slam closed a giant lock on her pussy.

"No. I don't want to take the risk of being seen here. I need to go."

"What about this?" I ask, gripping my length in my fist, looking at her pointedly. She's got her arms in her shirt sleeves and pauses to look down at it. Come on baby. Please… But when she looks up, she looks wholly unimpressed, arches an eyebrow at me, and pulls her shirts on over her head, turning her back to me so she can grab her shoes and socks from where we'd discarded them next to the bed. Ugh, fuck.

She doesn't even say one fucking words as she walks past me, fully dressed. She just plants a quick kiss on my cheek and walks out. Despite my better judgement, I follow her, watching her walk out the door without so much as a look back. I notice her turn left toward the stairwell instead of taking the elevator, so I know she's sneaking out the back entrance. I watch through the peephole for another moment until she's completely out of sight, then press my forehead into the door and close my eyes.

This fucking sucks. Now I'm frustrated and horny as fuck, which has me angry. Stupid fucking Christian and his terrible timing. Couldn't he have showed up even ten minutes later? Even when he's oblivious to it, he's fucking up my life. And now I have to go spend time with him like I actually give a shit. Why did he have to decide to come see me, today of all days?

I begrudgingly go back to my bedroom so I can shower and get dressed, but when I step in and see the rumpled sheets and smell the sex in the air, I make the quick decision not to shower. You want to show up and ruin my good time, little brother? Then I'm going to spend the day with you with _your_ girl **all over** me. I lick my lips, sure that I can still taste her sweet pussy on my tongue, and throw on some clean clothes and leave.

When I get to the coffee shop, I see Christian at a table in the back on his phone. I go straight to the counter and order a drink, thanking the barista with a wink before meeting him at the table. He surprisingly puts the phone down when I pull out my chair. I'm so used to him completely ignoring everyone in favor of that fucking phone that I am legitimately shocked when he immediately gives me his full attention.

He looks more relaxed than I've seen him in years, just sitting here across from me, his face not a tight, hard mask of impassivity. He looks receptive and _normal_.

"So…" I lead, curious as to what this little meetup is about. "What's up?"

With a sarcastic little smirk, he replies, "What? I'm not allowed to just spend time with my brother? I need an agenda?"

I have to hold back an eye roll. Yes, Christian, since I've never known you **not** to have an agenda. But I play nice instead.

"How's work?"

He immediately launches into a speech about all the big deals he's closed, all the money he's made, all the success he's had, and I sense the underlying haughty, braggart tone though he tries to play it off as simple conversation. I'm regretting asking the question when he wraps it up and suddenly changes the topic. "GEH is poised to break all profit records for this quarter. But despite how well the company is thriving, and the fact that on a personal note, I am the seeing the highest successes of my career, that's surprisingly not the thing in my life right now that has me preoccupied."

I raise an eyebrow, legitimately curious. Since when isn't business priority number one to Christian Grey? "So? What it is, if not GEH?"

An honest to God genuine, wistful smile graces my brother's face as he says, "Anastasia." I hear the tinges of awe, happiness, and lust all wrapped up in the way he simply says her name, and I hate it immediately. And I can't help but question if it's even genuine, or if he's playing me for some reason. I just have a hard time taking him at face value, because I've never known _Christian Grey_ to express anything close to reverence to anyone that isn't _Christian Grey_. Not that Ana doesn't deserve the admiration. _God knows she's got me sucked in and under her spell._

"I just can't get enough of her," he said, and the slightly confused look on his face lets me know that even he is surprised by the words he's saying. "I literally want to be inside of her all the time. I think about her constantly. How she smells, how she feels. How she _tastes_ … fuck." He actually lets out a groan and I find myself flicking my tongue over my lower lip. Yeah, bro, I know all about how she tastes. I have to bite back the vindictive grin that wants to spread across the lips that still taste like Ana. "Every time I'm with her, it's incredible. Mind blowing. She's…." he trails off.

I feel the sourness spreading inside of me, the anger rising up as I listen to him talk about _my_ Ana in _his_ bed. But, of course, I can't say anything, and I don't want to encourage this thinking that Ana is something special, because Christian doesn't deserve her. So I just shrug. "Pussy is pussy, man."

But he leans in, pressing his fingertips into the surface of the table as he emphasizes his next words. " _That's_ the thing though, it's **not**. Not with _her_. It's the best sex I've ever had. Bar none. She's fucking flawless. It's been incredible, but at the same time, it's all so _normal_. I don't **do** normal. But with _her_ , I actually enjoy it. More than enjoy it." He sits suddenly back in his seat, like he's grasping for straws to understand his own words. "I can't wrap my head around it. It's got me all thrown off."

I have to ease my jaw out of the tight clench I didn't realize it'd been holding and will myself to not act on the flurry of jealousy I feel rushing through every cell of my body. I clench and unclench my hands under the table, and even take a sip of my coffee to try and relax what I'm worried is visible tension in my face. But in true Christian form, he finds a way to deliver a gut punch at the exact worst possible time.

"I'm thinking about inviting her to Christmas."

I suck in a surprised breath, except I have a coffee cup at my mouth, so instead of air, I inhale coffee and devolve into a fit of coughs. Finally I manage to pull myself together. "You're going to introduce Ana to Mom and Dad?" I clarify, just because I can hardly believe I heard him right.

"Yeah. I think she would really enjoy how the Greys celebrate the holidays. She doesn't really have family of her own to spend it with so I figure it makes sense to invite her. Do you think it's too soon? The parents and Christmas all at once?" he asks.

And as unhappy as I was with the fact that he would get the privilege of bringing probably the first really deserving, respectable girl home to introduce to our parents, it was outweighed by the simple fact that Christian was right. Ana didn't have any real family. She spent Thanksgiving with Leila's family, and I know she would never admit it, but she worries they just feel obligated to include her because her mom is so shitty and doesn't want anything to do with her. The idea of her possibly spending Christmas alone is way worse than the idea of her spending it as Christian's girlfriend with us.

Plus… I would love the chance to fuck her on Christmas, in Mom and Dad's house, right underneath Christian's nose. God, I already know the perfect location where I could make that fantasy a reality too.

"Nah. I think it's a good idea," I say easily, not letting on how excited I am about it now, even if it's only for the fact that it's another chance to fuck her.

Christian nods in return, like my approval was all he needed to make the final decision. "I'll let Mom know this afternoon and invite Ana this weekend." He's looking down at his phone, then picks it up to look more closely at it. I see a frown tick on his lips before he sighs. "I have something I have to handle for work real quick. I'll have to go back to Escala so I can access to the database."

I nod, more than used to the whole 'work never stops for Christian Grey' act.

We both stand up, grabbing our coffee cups off the table. "You want to come back with me? We can order the fight, drink some beers. I can have Gail cook us up some pan-seared ribeyes." I'm almost temped to take him up on it. There's only thing that appeals to me more than sporting events, beers, and steaks, and that's pussy. But I'm just not up to a night of socializing with him, and I really do need to nut soon. This ache in my balls needs to be taken care of, even if it means my dick is in my fist instead of inside Ana like it should be.

"I wish, but I have some work stuff to take care of this afternoon, too," I lie, keeping it purposefully vague.

If I didn't know my brother like I do, I'd almost swear I see a flash of disappointment cross his face before he nods in acceptance and turns to leave. I watch him walk to his car, which is parked out front, get in and speed off into traffic. I start the short trek home, thinking about Ana and Christmas and what it will be like having her there with us. Then I start to imagine what it would be like if she were there with _me_ , if she were really **mine**.

I imagine the look on Mom's face, how absolutely overjoyed she would be, not just that I brought someone, but that I brought someone so genuinely sweet and beautiful. I know Ana will have my parents won over instantly. I imagine pulling out her chair for her at the dinner table, proudly taking the seat next to her. I imagine her nibbling off of my fork, her plump lips wrapping around the tines as she playfully runs her foot up the side of my leg. I imagine us all gathered around the tree, passing out the usual overabundance of gifts. My mother passes package after package to Ana and she's shocked and flattered to be lavished with so many gifts from people she's just met. She loves everything, is genuinely touched at the thoughtfulness of my family, but her reactions to their gifts pales in comparison to when she opens the one from me. She peels back the paper, throwing me a wide grin, radiating happiness as she does. But the grin morphs as she sees what I bought her- something so absolutely perfect that I watch tears well in her beautiful blue eyes. She leaps off the couch and throws her arms around my neck and kisses me with such fervor, such overwhelming passion. Not in secret, not behind closed doors, but right there in the middle of my mother's professionally decorated living room, in front of my entire family. And it's not out of spite of Christian.

The last thought brings me back to reality, to the real reason Ana comes to see me so often. I'm in my building by now, riding the elevator up to my floor, and I press my forehead against the cold metal of the door as I really realize how nice that little fantasy was, how much it truly appeals to me. I wish I could have that.

I shake my head as the elevator doors slide open and I walk to my apartment. I can't have it, and it's depressing. I continue on to my bedroom, and my brief wash of melancholy disappears as soon as I push open the door.

There in the middle of my bed, lying on her stomach, long, lean legs swaying back and forth as she looks at her phone, is the gorgeous blue-eyed goddess herself.

"What are you doing here?" I question as she looks up from her phone, tossing it aside and pushing herself up to sit on her knees.

"I saw you go into the coffee shop with Christian and decided to come back," she says with a dismissive shrug. "It really hit me while I was walking," she says, the look on her face completely serious. "That, God, it's such a shame to let a good, hard cock go to waste." Then she breaks out into a playful grin.

I can't help but return it with a broad smile of my own before I pounce on her, pinning her down to the bed beneath me, and kiss her deeply.


	15. Chapter 15

**Ana POV**

I wasn't sure how to feel when Christian invited me to Christmas with his family. I mean, meeting the parents for the first time combined with an intimate family holiday is a lot for one afternoon, but the Greys have been welcoming from the moment I stepped through the door and into the giant entryway. Grace hugs me, thanking me profusely for coming, and Mia pulls me into a death grip that leaves me breathless, telling me Christian has never brought a girl home before. It throws me off momentarily, but I choose not to respond. I find it hard to believe he's _never_ brought a girl home. Not in high school? Not from college? Not once did he bring a girl home to hang out, or for a dance, or as his girlfriend? _Never?_ I know he treats his submissives like shit, so I get why they didn't get to meet his family, but I just assumed he treated his girlfriends differently, that that was why he treats me the way he does. But they're saying he's never even introduced anyone to his family. Does that mean they were just never serious enough to bring around? But then why was he introducing me? We haven't been together very long at all, and we're not exceptionally serious. So… what? I wish I could ask him, but he's so secretive about his past, and I don't feel comfortable pushing him on it yet.

After introductions, we do drinks, and I offer to help to set the table when it's almost time for dinner. Grace pulls me aside and hugs me _again._ She tells me how surprised she was to see Christian bring a woman home, and I find her wording odd for a moment, until I recall when Kate said people think he is gay. If he really did never bring a girl home, maybe his family thought the same thing. It would also explain why everyone is so over enthusiastic to see me. She goes on to tell me she's never seen Christian like this before, then thanks me. Again. I'm really not sure what I'm even being thanked for. His past was such an enigma to me, but Grace doesn't know that, so I just smile and nod like I understand what she means. She tells me that she can see that I really 'make her son' happy, and before I can stop them, the words, _'Which one?'_ pop into my head. I feel guilty that one day, after I break their baby boy's little heart, that they will hate me, because they seem like really nice people.

Dinner is a success. A true family meal. There is delicious food, fun and easy conversation, and a lot of love shared between the Greys at their Christmas dinner table. It is much different than anything I've ever had with my family. My _real_ family. Leila's family is much more similar to this during holiday gatherings, but they aren't _my_ family. My family holidays usually devolve into drunk fighting matches which are anything but happy or loving. As a kid, I usually ended up taking my plate of food to my room and eating by myself just to get some peace.

But the Greys? They are expressive people. They make it a point to sit at their big dining room table together, to have real conversations, to intently listen to everyone who speaks, to ask questions, to delve deeper. Grace and Carrick are clearly still very much in love, constantly exchanging little looks, little touches of affection. I watch him dish out her favorite foods on her plate without needing to ask what she wants. And l watched her lean over and swipe a spot of gravy from his chin with her napkin, which he quickly grasps in order to place a kiss to her knuckles. It is this type of familiarity, this type of depth to them that makes it obvious they are soul mates. Two perfect people, who are also perfect parents. Because they also wear their love and pride for their children on their sleeves.

It makes me envious of the whole family. It would have been nice to grow up with stable, unified parents like this, who loved each other and doted on me, or even better, me and a sibling or two.

"It's a shame Kate couldn't make it to dinner. I would really like to meet her," Grace says with a sympathetic but pointed smile toward Elliot. I want to laugh. Elliot did not want Kate here. He knows she is pissed that Christian invited me, but he had just flat out ignored it whenever she brought up the subject, constantly fishing for an invite. Grace turns to me. "Kate is Elliot's girlfriend."

I'm surprised. Does she seriously not already know that Kate and I are roommates? Neither Elliot nor Christian happened to mention that? I wait for a moment to see if either of them will say something, but neither of them seems phased by the fact that their mom is explaining to me how my best friend fits into her son's life. Idiots.

I smile kindly as her, not wanting to seem rude as I inform her of something she would already know if her son actually cared enough about his girlfriend to talk about her with his family. "Yes. She's actually one of my best friends as well as my roommate. Because of that, I've known Elliot for a while. Longer than I've even known Christian, actually."

"Oh how nice! Why didn't I know this already?" she asks Elliot.

He shrugs. "I just didn't think to mention it, I guess."

"Well, that's nice that you two already know each other. Do you approve of Elliot for your best friend?" she asks playfully with a laugh.

"Yes, of course," I politely laugh back. "Elliot's a good guy." I say, hoping to keep it simple.

"You two must see each other a lot. Have you two gotten close at all? It's always nice when your significant other and best friend can get along. My Carry has never been the biggest fan of my best friend, Elena. But you two seem to get on well."

"Yeah," Elliot says, looking down at his plate to hide the fucking smile I can see on his face. "Ana and I _get on_ really well. We have gotten close, especially lately." I immediately shoot a side glance to Christian. He's so damn intuitive, I hope he hasn't noticed Elliot's piss-poor timed personal joke. But he is staring at his phone, not even paying attention to the conversation. Thank God.

"Well that's nice. Imagine if my boys married best friends. It'd be like one big happy family."

Elliot sputters on the sip of water he was taking, the word marriage akin to a death sentence for him. I want to laugh, but keep it in check. I watch Christian's fingers tense around his phone, but other than that, there is no outward reaction. I follow his lead and pretend like nothing was said. Me marrying Christian? I have no choice but to admit that he's been a surprisingly good boyfriend toward me. He's kind and caring, and I begrudgingly find myself enjoying his company. But marriage just cannot be in our future. We cannot _have_ a real future. Not after what he did to Leila. But Elliot marrying Kate? Well, that was just laughable. Elliot barely tolerates Kate outside of the bedroom. He'd never marry her. Poor Grace. She has a better chance of marrying off Mia before either of these two.

"Hey baby," Christian says, sweetly wrapping his arms around my waist, bringing his mouth down to my ear. "There you are." He presses light kisses to my ear, and I can't help but melt at the gesture.

"I was looking at pictures your mom has in the hallways. They led me upstairs, then I decided to find a bathroom, and instead I found this. Was this your room?" I ask, holding onto his hips for stability.

He smiles, looking around. "Yep. This is where _the_ Christian Grey spent most of his formative years," he says playfully.

"I bet this room has seen a lot of things," I laugh.

He immediately puts a touch more space between us, and his face falls a little, but he catches it, then says with a shrug, "Not really anything too exciting actually."

Okay, and there it is again. People have been alluding to the fact that he hasn't ever had much of a romantic past. But the difference this time is that he is the one alluding to it. I know I shouldn't ask, I _told_ myself I wouldn't ask, but it's hard to keep ignoring when everyone seems to keep bringing it up.

"I bet you were always handsome, even as a teenager. I can't imagine you having an awkward phase. I bet a lot of teenage girls were dying to get a chance to stand in these four walls." And I'm fishing. Despite what I said, I am totally fishing. I want to know what he was like as a teenager. It just can't be true that he never brought girls home.

"Actually," he says, almost looking… shy? "I've never had a girl in here." Well, shit. Straight from the horse's mouth. It was true. I figured there had to be at least someone, even if it was someone his family didn't know about. I want him to elaborate.

Cocking my head to the side I look up at him incredulously. "Never?"

"Nope," he says. Interesting. But it is obvious he doesn't want to actually elaborate. I'm lucky I got this far with him, so I need to let it be. For now.

So I grin at him, biting my lip as I slowly run my hands up his arms, circling them around his neck. "Well, Christian, you've got me here, alone, in your bedroom. What are you going to do with me?"

He groans, resting his forehead on mine. "You can't imagine the things I want to do to you Anastasia," he whispers against my lips before capturing them with his own. God, it never ceases to amaze me how well this this man can _kiss_.

I tighten my grip on him when I feel his hands move down to my thighs, then hitch up the hem of my dress. The feeling of his large hands on my legs makes me tremble. I'm already dying to feel him inside of me, and as a result, I spread my legs like a hussy in order to nonverbally beg for his attention. His thick index finger drags up the front of my panties slowly, then back down, and up and down and up and down, his tongue invading my mouth in a slow, sensual way.

He pauses on the next uptick, finding my clit, pressing down on it gently until I whimper. My legs spread wider, and he moves it back down, brushing my panties aside. God, yes.

"Mmm, so wet for me, baby," he hums, his voice low, as his fingers explore my folds. "Can I taste?"

Knowing my voice won't cooperate, I just start to nod, when-

"Son?" Carrick's voice and unexpected presence startles us both and Christian pulls away to find Carrick standing at the now open door looking embarrassed. "Sorry. I'll be in my study," he says with a nod, turning on his heel and quickly leaving.

Christian chuckles. "That was embarrassing."

"Not as embarrassing as if he'd come in a few minutes later, when you likely would have been inside of me," I say, pulling his lips back down to mine, trying to get us back on track. Jesus, I want him badly and he's barely even touched me. "We should lock the door this time though. Wouldn't want Grace to be next," I say between heated kisses.

"Mmm," he moans against the kiss, indulging me for only a moment before he pulls back. "Fuck baby, we can't."

"Why not?" I pout, pulling away. What the fuck?

"That's why I came looking for you- why Carrick just came looking for me. I was coming to tell you. My mom will be busy supervising the cleanup and getting dessert ready for the next half hour. Mia is probably already in her room. And my dad and I usually have a drink in his office on Christmas after the meal. It's sort of a tradition. If it bothers you, I can skip it though," he says, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

"No, of course not. I'll be fine. Go. I'll be here when you get back."

"Are you sure?" he asked, seemingly legitimately concerned about my comfort level of being left alone.

"Of course," I smile to reassure him. "I need to call my mom still anyway. I'll get that out of the way while you're gone."

He kisses my lips quickly. "You're the best baby. I can't wait to give you your gift tonight. I put a lot of thought into it and I know you're going to love it," he said, giving me an adorable, almost shy smile. Then he leans down to whisper in my ear. "And I'm not talking about all the orgasms I plan to give you, either." He pops his fingers into his mouth, the fingers he was just using to touch me. I feel another strong wash of arousal flood me as he hums his approval with a wink, but then he's headed out toward the door.

I try to snap out of it once he's gone from my sightline, but it's no easy task. I force my mind to shift to what he said about my gift. Did he really put a lot of thought into it? I didn't really expect something thoughtful and romantic. Not that he can't be romantic at times, he certainly tries. But I just kind of figured he'd get me something... expensive. Like jewelry. Not something _personal_. Now I'm excited. I can't wait to see what he got me! I have his wrapped and waiting in my car at Escala. I figure after dessert we'd head home, light a fire, exchange gifts next to the tree he had professionally decorated… then probably have sex. Because we basically always have sex. Not that I'm complaining. If it were up to me, I'd be having sex with him right now.

He leaves me in the room, and I sit on the bed, pressing my legs together, trying to relieve some of ache that is now very present. I try to ignore it, staring at my phone, building up the mental toughness to carry on a conversation with a likely drunk Carla playing the woe-is-me-mom whose only daughter couldn't even manage to come home for Christmas. I hear the door click closed and assume it's Christian closing it, but when I see a movement out of the corner of my eye and look up, Elliot is standing in the room with his back against the door. He smirks, then makes a show of twisting the lock on the door knob. I roll my eyes at him, looking back at my phone, intent on making this call to my mother.

I sigh in frustration as he yanks the phone from my hand, holding it above me like an annoying elementary school bully.

"Give me my phone, Elliot," I groan, reaching for it, even jumping a little as he easily dangles it above my much shorter frame.

He grins as he uses his free hand to grab me by my waist and pull me flush against him.

"Elliot," I hiss, fighting to get out of his hold, still twisting to try and get my phone. But he easily keeps it from me, then pivots in order to toss it behind us onto a desk adjacent to where we are standing.

His other hand now free, he grabs me around my waist and yanks me up off the ground before walking us to the bed and toppling over so I am pinned flat on my back with him hovering above me. He so much more clumsy, so much more brutish than Christian, who seems to do everything with a suave elegance. I usually like Elliot's bluntness but today, especially after Christian's sweet tease from a minute ago, it's grating on me more than anything.

"Elliot, stop," I complain, trying fruitlessly to push him off of me. He has my arms pinned awkwardly at my sides, and even if he didn't, I am just no match for his size and strength.

"Come on, Ana" he whispers. "I want to fuck you at some point today and now is the perfect time. Christian's in the office with my dad and they're always in there for a while. They'll share a drink and discuss business, _just the two of them_. It's their tradition," he mocks, clearly aggravated by their father-son bonding moment. "It'll be a while. We have plenty of time." His left hand pulls my hair lightly, moving my head to the side so his lips can access my neck.

"Still, this is your parent's house- and this is Christian's room! We can't do it in here."

"Why not?" he asks, his right hand coming down to palm my breast through my dress top. The pad of his thumb finds my nipple, rubbing over it before taking it between his thumb and index finger and giving it a firm pinch. His hips press forward, allowing me to feel him already hard between my thighs. I can't help the zing it sends through my body, even though I know it's because I'm still turned on from Christian. "I think it's the perfect place to do it. It's Christmas, Ana; I want to be inside of you for the holiday. And I think doing it here, in my parent's house, in your _boyfriend's_ old room, is the perfect time and place. I don't think he's ever had a girl in here. You can be the first," he finishes with a grin. Funny, that's what I thought earlier, only I'd expected it to be with Christian, not Elliot. I want to laugh at the insanity of this whole thing. How had something that started with me getting revenge for Leila turned into me fucking brothers? Sexy, muscled, huge dicked, God-like brothers? Logically I know I should be kind of disgusted with myself, and truthfully, for the first time, I think I might be. But I'm also still really turned on from Christian leaving me hanging.

Still tugging at my hair, I feel Elliot dig his erection into me more urgently. Wow, he is really fucking turned on right now… I realize from the way his voice tightened when talking about fucking me here in Christian's room, that this is _exactly_ where he wants to be right now. "Oh my God, you're really getting off on this aren't you? This isn't even about timing and convenience. You actually _want_ to fuck me in Christian's room." He lifts his head from my neck, giving me a cheeky grin and a shrug. "You're a pervert," I breathe out with a sigh as his hand moves down my body and up my skirt to rub me on top of my panties.

He lets out a low chuckle as his fingertip swipes down the hem and slips under the fabric, feeling me wet and wanting below him. "Looks like I'm not the only one who thinks this is hot. You're just as much a pervert as I am, baby."

I'm so wet, I know, but it's not because if Elliot. And as he presses his fingers against my clit, then moves them down and presses them inside of me, I, for the first time, feel a pang of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I close my eyes and swallow, trying to make it go away, but it only intensifies as I see Christian behind my eyelids, giving me that sweet, shy smile. I snap them open, and breath out a, "Fuck," which Elliot takes as a positive sign to his ministrations. Shit. This is fucked up. Things are getting blurry… confusing. Christian has been so different than what I imagined. And I find myself, very unexpectedly, enjoying being with him.

But that wasn't the plan. I can't lose sight of what why I did this, and that was for Leila. I have to keep reminding myself that despite how he is with me, I know what Christian Grey is really capable of. It feels so easy to be blind to all of it when he is the way he is with me, but he deserves to answer for what he did to Leila.

So with a renewed view of the reality of things, I huff to Elliot, "Just shut up and fuck me."

"Oh, with pleasure," he laughs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my panties and tugging them down my legs.

I help him with the button and zipper on his pants while he undoes the belt buckle. And once his pants were tugged down just enough to expose him, he covers my body with his own and guides his erection to my opening. It is moments too late, when he is already halfway inside of me, that I realize he is inside of me without protection.

"Fuck, El- a condom!" I gasp, but he just starts plunging inside of me, teeth gritted in pleasure. I have the IUD that Christian made me get a few weeks ago, so pregnancy isn't an issue, but I sure as shit don't want to catch anything from one of the millions of other women he's stuck his dick inside.

"I'm clean," he groans, raising up on his hands to get better leverage.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word on that?" Is he insane? I bet he's promised a lot of women the same fucking thing.

"I've always used a condom, Ana. Always. I would never put you at risk like that. This is-" he groans. "The first time I've ever not used one. And it. feels. so. good," he moans loudly through his thrusts.

"Holy shit would you shut the fuck up? Everyone in the goddamn house is going to hear us! Jesus Christ, Elliot!"

"Fuck, Ana. Fuck!"

"Elliot! Shut up!" I hiss urgently. Oh my God he is going to fucking ruin everything. And I can't even fucking enjoy myself because now I'm nervous we're going to get caught because he's being so damn loud!

"Ana," he groans out in a stilted breath. "Are you close?"

Close? Am I _close_? He's been inside me for like, two minutes! "No!" I seethe. He cannot be serious!

"Ana, come on baby. I'm- I need to- I can't," he pants.

"You're fucking with me right?" I breathe, pulling back to look at his face.

"I'm sorry," he grunts.

And his eyes say it all. No, he is one hundred percent serious. His eyebrows are screwed together in total concentration, a sheen of sweat coating his face. He looks constipated. Holy shit- he isn't going to come _in_ me is he? Nononono... "Nononono," my mind takes over, chanting the words screaming in my brain. And with all my strength, I shove him off of me, feeling the wet lash hit my inner thigh.

He yells out, falling back off the bed onto his knees, shouting "What the fuck, Ana?" as he spurts onto the side of Christian's bed.

"You can't come _in_ me, Elliot! I can't smell like come when I'm with your brother later! What the fuck are you trying to do?"

He pulls himself up off the floor, still panting heavily as he awkwardly tugs his pants back up over his hips. He is glaring at me but doesn't say anything. Good. I don't care about whatever he has to say anyway.

Standing up, I snatch my panties up off the floor and walk across the room where there are two doors. One is bigger and obviously a closet, and the other I correctly assume is an on suite bathroom. Thank God rich people love to have a million bathrooms in their houses. I grab some toilet paper and get it wet and soapy, using it to wipe the evidence of Elliot's orgasm from my inner thigh. Then I clean up the rest of me, just to make sure. Christian would definitely dump me if he found out I cheated with anyone, but it would be a whole hell of a lot worse if he found out I have been fucking his own brother. I kind of don't feel like being tossed out on my ass in Bellevue on Christmas by the entire Grey family.

When I am satisfied that I am clean, I walk back into the bedroom to find Elliot sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands.

"Can you attempt to be at least somewhat useful and try to clean your semen off the bed?" I ask, pointing to the wet spot. "Flip the comforter or something. You can't just leave it like that."

He gets up, his cheeks reddened, and nods, doing as I ask and flipping the big, cushy comforter over. Thankfully it is the same pattern on both sides, so it isn't noticeable that it had been moved. Once he is finished, I can see him standing there awkwardly, shuffling his weight side to side as he looks at me. I tilt my head to look up at him and raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't meant to- so fast. And on you. It was-"

I hold up my hand to cut him off. "Just stop. I don't even want to talk about it. I need to call my mom before Christian comes back. And I don't want you in here when he does. So I think you should just-" I say, waving my hand absently at the door.

"Right," he lets out in a defeated breath, then forces a small smile on his face. "I'll see you downstairs?"

"Mmm," I hum, having already hit the button to connect the call to my mom, bringing the phone up to my ear. I turn the chair so it is facing away from him, and faintly hear the door click closed just as my mom answers the phone.

Once we all finish dessert, Grace announces that it is time for presents.

Presents.

 _Presents?_

I smile and follow the family to the living room, but inside, I am beyond uncomfortable. I didn't think I'd be a part of their family gift exchange! I guess I should have expected they would at least want to give Christian his presents while he is here, but it honestly didn't even cross my mind. Maybe I can just sink back into the couch and remain practically invisible while they do their family thing.

Once we are all gathered around the Christmas tree, Grace claps her hands and starts distributing the presents. She is totally in her element here, her smile so wide I think it might split her face in two. She hands out gifts to her husband and children like she is Mrs. Claus. She is so sweet it gives me a toothache, but I can't help but admire the amazing woman she is. It makes me again wonder how Christian ended up doing the whole Dominant thing. His family life seems so picture perfect, so normal. I really wish I understood why he likes what he does and why he can be the way he can be. I wish I could just ask him, but that would be a huge mistake.

I watch the family accept and begin to open their gifts, tearing into multiples boxes and oo-ing and ah-ing in excitement. Then Grace announces _my_ name. "Ana dear, this one is for you," she says as she extends her arm out to me, handing me a box. Oh my God, please tell me she did not buy me a gift! I didn't have anything to give her or Carrick in return! How fucking mortifying...

I know I am bright red as she hands me a slim box wrapped in heavy gold paper that is about a foot long. I take it and open it carefully, exposing a box emblazoned with the word "Burberry' on the top. No way! Gently I lifted the lid, revealing a gorgeous gauzy scarf in the traditional Burberry tan and plaid pattern. It had to cost hundreds! All I can do was stare at it in shock like an idiot.

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" Christian leans down and whispers.

"Of course I like it!" I squeaked quickly. It's beautiful. I _love_ it. "But it's too much! I don't even have gifts for your parents. I wasn't expecting this," I whine weakly.

"Oh baby, don't worry about it. I got it covered, okay?"

I look at him questioningly, but he just gives me a confident nod. Okay... I have no choice but to trust him. What the hell else can I do?

I go to Grace, giving her a hug and a thank you, hoping to make up for my initial reaction, hoping I hadn't offended her. And she doesn't seem to be, since she returns the hug with a "No, thank _you_ ," that, like so many of her other comments, seems to hold more meaning than I really understand.

Mia goes next, passing out her gifts to everyone, who all receive various items of clothing. Except for me. I sink lower in humiliation when she hands me an envelope containing a gift certificate for a one day pass to a salon and spa. I can't believe Mia got me a gift too. I look helplessly at Christian and he just smiles, so I smile and hug and thank her too. The last thing I want is for this family to think I am unthankful for their generosity. It's just not something I'm used to. At all.

"Who's next?" Grace asks, looking between Elliot and Christian. Elliot moves to grab his gifts, but Christian interrupts him.

"I'll go," he announces. I watch Elliot roll his eyes, but sit back down without saying a word. Christian pulls closer the Louis Vuitton bag containing all of his gifts, which Taylor must have carried in, because I don't remember seeing it before now. "These are from me… _and Ana_ ," he said throwing me a wink. Oh God. That was it? _That_ was his solution? That made this infinitely more embarrassing.

Christian passes out beautifully wrapped boxes to everyone in his family. They are so elegant, I'm sure he paid someone to wrap them, and I'll bet anything he paid them a lot. He watches Mia open her little box containing a key fob to a brand new car, squealing like a sixteen year old once it is in her hands. She tries to ditch out right then and there to see it, but Grace pins her with a glare and tells her to sit down and wait until everyone was done opening their gifts. Part of me wants to steal the keys and ditch this whole thing myself.

Once they are all done, Grace gives the nod to Elliot to pass out his gifts, but Christian holds up a hand. "Wait, I have to give Ana her gift still."

Wait, what? Now? Here? I thought we'd exchange gifts later, privately. I didn't even bring _his_ with me! Not that it was anything I wanted to give him in front of his wealthy family. I am a poor college graduate without a job, and they are passing around gifts worth thousands like it is nothing.

He reaches down into the bottom of the bag, pulling out a small box. Jewelry. It had to be jewelry. He turns to me, smiling, then turns back toward his family, the box still clutched in his hands. "About a month ago, I took Ana for ride on The Grace. We shared a romantic meal on a crisp but beautiful afternoon. I asked her to be my girlfriend that day, and she said yes. It was one of the best days of my life," he recalls, his eyes sweeping back down to meet mine. In my peripheral vision, I see Grace move her hands up to her face, pressing her fingertips to her lips emotionally. I focus quickly back on Christian, who is looking at me with such… adoration. It is intimidating, because everyone else is staring at us, and his mother is crying... Then a small frown crosses Christian's face. "Unfortunately," he says with a drawn out sigh. "That day, Ana also lost something precious to her. A necklace- a gift to from her birth father, who passed just after she was born. She was very distraught. It meant so much to her. It broke my heart to watch her mourn it."

My eyes dart to the box again. Holy shit. _Did he find my necklace?_ My chest swells with emotion. That would be the best gift in the world. That necklace means _everything_ to me. If he found it, I'm going to be hard pressed not to throw him on the floor and fuck his brains out in front of of his family.

Slowly, he hands me the box, the biggest smile on his face. Oh my God. Oh my God, Oh my God. I take it, and my hands are slightly shaking. I'm sweating, literally, my palms are sweaty. I pull off the ornate red bow and I peel back the thick, shiny paper, pulling the nondescript black velvety box out. I take in a deep breath, and as I blow it out, I crack open the hinged lid.

I hold my breath for so long that my chest feels hollow, my heart pounding wildly inside the vast space before finally my lungs scream at me for air and my chest deflates. Holy shit, the ache I feel in my heart is staggering. This isn't my necklace.

Inside the box is some other necklace- a super expensive looking, diamond encrusted necklace. Not my simple little heart necklace with the pinpoint diamond on the thin gold chain. This thing is a big heart made out of diamonds on a thick band of diamonds. The only thing even somewhat similar to my necklace is the fact that it has a heart on it.

I want to cry. I had my hopes up- I shouldn't have, but I did. The way he said what he'd said? It sounded like… I just really thought he'd found _my_ necklace. I hate that he did this, made this a whole big presentation of this gift in front of everyone. Everyone's eyes are on me and I want to cry. I'm suddenly hyper conscious of the fact that his whole family's eyes are on me, so I force a smile onto my face and clear my throat. "Thank you, Christian. It's beautiful."

"Even more beautiful than the other one," he murmurs, pulling me to him and placing a kiss to the top of my head. I want to throw up. Nothing could be as beautiful as the other one. It was the sentimental value of it that made it beautiful. But he's clearly proud of himself. He really thinks he did something amazing. I'm offended that he thinks he can replace something that means so much to me with something that's simply more expensive. He could have just bought me a beautiful piece of jewelry. But no, he specifically bought this to replace the necklace I lost, to replace something irreplaceable, and had the gall to call it _better_. How can he not see how wrong this is? Am I crazy? Am I the only one who sees how fucked up this is?

From my spot pressed against him, I glance around the room. Mia is staring at her phone, Grace is silently crying while Carrick looks at her lovingly, whispering in her ear, both smiling. Finally my eyes land on Elliot, who is staring intently at me. The concern is evident in his gaze. Concern and sympathy. _He_ can see I am hurting. I have to look away.

I clear my throat, forcing a smile once again as I pull back and lean up, placing a kiss on Christian's lips.

"Elliot, your turn," Grace announces, dashing the last of her tears from her cheeks.

He gets up, walking around, handing gifts to Carrick, Grace, Mia, and Christian. They all laughed at him, joking about the child-themed wrapping paper he'd chosen, playfully taking jabs at the terrible wrap job he's done, especially in comparison to Christian's extravagantly wrapped gifts. Then finally he stops in front of me. "I got you something too, AnaBanana."

"Thanks, El," I say, giving him a weak smile. And as the rest of his family tears into their gifts, fawning over how much thought he's put into personalizing them for each person, I slowly and solemnly tear the paper off the rectangular shaped present he's set in my hands.

I freeze as I uncover the front. Slowly, disbelievingly, I pull out the book he'd wrapped in Spiderman wrapping paper and haphazardly sealed with scotch tape.

My eyes shoot to him, questioningly, and find his immediately. The rest of his family is opening their gifts, but he is watching only me.

I slide my palm over the top of the cover, then bring the book up to my nose and inhale. Oh God, it smells so old, so good. I touch the cover like it might break, opening it so gently. This can't be real.

My eyes find his again, and he smiles, a real, true smile. I love it, and he knows it. _Thank you_ , I mouth to him.

"What'd you get babe?" Christian asks, breaking our stare.

I swallow hard, my throat thick with tears. "A book," I manage to say, trying not to look him in the eyes so he doesn't see the tears welling in them.

Christian grabs it from my hands and I cringe, immediately wanting to take it back from him, but I restrain myself.

"The Merry Go Round by Carolyn Wells," he reads out loud, his face an unreadable expression. I see Grace and Carrick looking up now as they finish with their own presents, trying to see what the gift is that we are discussing.

"What's that, dear?" Grace asks, looking at Christian first, then me, and finally Elliot.

"It's a um… a book?" I say, forcing a smile. "An old children's book," I clarify after a beat.

"What's the significance of that particular book?" she asks, eyes between me and Elliot now.

"I, uh-" I say, feeling Christian's heated stare on me. I take in a breath in order to control my emotions. I need to make this seem nonchalant, like it isn't a huge fucking deal that Elliot found and bought this book for me. I don't want to cry about a gift my boyfriend's brother bought me, especially when it blows my boyfriend's gift out of the proverbial water. It is best to downplay it and make sure Elliot knows how much I appreciate it later. Privately. Probably with a blowjob. "It was just a book I remember fondly from my childhood." Grace smiles and nods. Good. I look up at Christian who seems to relax a little and accept that as well. They buy it without further explanation. Good good good. I turn back to Christian, wanting it back in my own hands. He is just starting to hand it to me when Elliot starts speaking.

"Ana's birth father read it to her in the hospital the day she was born." My eyes widen and I shoot him a quick glare before eyes are back on me.

"Oh?" Grace asks. I feel Christian tense next to me again, his fingers tightening on the book again. No no no! I fake a smile.

"Tell them about the picture, Ana," Elliot urges. What the fuck is his problem today? Jesus! Is he trying to ruin everything? I grit my teeth in what I hope is a smile, but what I suspect looks like I bit down on a bee. Again, everyone's eyes are on me, waiting to hear my story.

"Uh, right. There's this um… picture. In our apartment. Of me and my biological dad. Like Christian said before, he died right after I was born. But he did get to be there for my birth. And there's a picture of him holding me, reading this book. Elliot and I talked about it randomly one day. So…." I trailed off.

"Ana said she always wanted to read the story her dad read to her. It's out of print though, so she could never find it. But I came across a copy. So obviously I had to buy it for her."

"Obviously," Christian speaks up, his tone so flat it sends a chill down my spine. I can feel the tension radiating off of him, but I act like I don't. With a flick of his wrist, he tosses the book onto the floor, letting it fall into the piles of wrapping paper like a piece of trash.

Immediately he bends down, grabbing the box containing my new necklace from where it is sitting on the table next to me. He pulls it from the box, smiling sweetly at me as he pulls my hair to the side and moves to secure it around my neck. It's only then that I realize this isn't even really a necklace. It's actually more of a choker. I try not to let the displeasure show on my face; I really don't like the feeling of it on my throat, pressing against it, reminding me that _it's_ there instead of _my_ necklace.

After it's secured, Christian gently places my hair back over my shoulders. He looks down at me, taking the heart in between his index finger and thumb, rubbing it gently, then tugging on his to pull me a half step closer.

"Merry Christmas, Ana," he whispers against my lips, before sealing them with a kiss.


	16. Chapter 16

I stare at the rose gold hued sparkles in the dress laid out on the bed in front of me, wondering why such a thing even exists. It's not the fact that it's an actual evening gown, which personally seems a little ridiculous off a red carpet, nor the fact that I'm almost positive the thin, chiffon behind the beads is nearly completely see-through. My incredulity with this dress is printed on the price tag still attached just below the arm on the left side.

Eight. Thousand. Dollars.

Who the fuck needs a dress, or any kind of clothing for that matter, worth that much? Eight thousand dollars could pay my rent for a year and still leave me with enough money to buy a long, fancy dress at a regular department store. This dress, however, wasn't bought at a department store. It wasn't bought in a store at all. This dress was purchased directly from a designer, who designed and created this dress based off nothing but a description of me Christian gave him over the phone and my exact measurements. I think I should be flattered. Objectively, the dress is beautiful, but the tightly constructed neckline that dips all the way down to my breasts, and the sheer fabric that clings to my curves, makes me believe Christian had a particular version of me in mind when he had this dress designed.

I sigh and turn away from the dress so that I can head to Kate's room. I've spent the better part of an hour making sure my makeup is flawless for tonight. I'd even watched a few YouTube tutorials to try and enhance my look so that I could attempt to mitigate all the questioning stares that will surely be pointed my way when people see me walk in on the arm of Adonis himself, and while the finished product is probably some of my best work, I still find myself wishing I would have just gone to a professional to have my makeup done.

That's where Kate comes in.

Christian has requested that I wear my hair up tonight and I'm not even going to try and attempt the kind of elaborate up-do he probably has in mind. Kate's always been good at this kind of thing, but tonight, I'm not sure if she's going to be up to using me as a human barbie doll like she normally is. She's not happy that Christian has invited me to the Seattle Yacht Club New Years Eve Ball, both because she's always viewed the high society of Seattle like an exclusive club that I'm not qualified to get into, and because Elliot had only invited her as an after thought when he'd found out she was already going to be there. After not getting invited to Christmas, that came as a huge blow to her ego.

I cringe as I make my way down the hall, thinking about what Kate told me over wine and reruns of I Love Lucy the other night. Her parents are going to be at the ball tonight and Kate finally intends on introducing Elliot to Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh as her boyfriend to try and force him into stepping up his game with her. Unfortunately, Elliot is so unconcerned with Kate's feelings and desires to get serious, that I can totally see him blowing her off, possibly even clarifying that they aren't that serious right in front of her parents. That would crush her… but hopefully, it will also help her see that Elliot isn't the man for her after all.

 _Is that how you justify fucking your best friend's boyfriend?_ A wicked voice in the back of my head sneers at me, but I quickly shake it away. I know what I'm doing with Elliot is wrong. I know Kate could get hurt and it could end our friendship forever… but it's not like I'm getting in the way of true love. Everything between Kate and Elliot is a fantasy that she's created in her mind. He's only interested in her for what's between her legs, the same I am with him. If anything, I'm getting a two for the price of one revenge deal on the Grey brothers for both my best friends.

I take a deep breath, clinging to my weak justifications, and then knock gently on Kate's door. "Kate? Do you have a minute?" I ask.

She opens the door, dressed only in a tight corset and skimpy panties, and gives me a hard, impatient look.

"What?"

"Could you help me with my hair tonight?" I reply. "Christian wants me to wear it up and you know I'm hopeless at anything that isn't just a ponytail."

Her lips press together as she wars over being mad at me and actually wanting to get to do my hair. Thankfully, the latter eventually wins out and she opens the door wider for me to step through, and then ushers me to the chair sitting in front of her over-lit vanity.

"So… anything I should know before we go tonight?" I ask her. "I've never been to something like this."

"No, I can't imagine that you have." She says shortly, as she twists and winds my hair on top of my head. I look down, purposefully trying to avoid eye contact with her in the mirror, and eventually she sighs. "Just try to stay as quiet as possible. These people care a lot about money and if they find out you don't belong, they're going to let you know. Christian is kind of… _royalty_ with these people, so just let him be the star."

"I can do that." I reply, smiling gratefully up at her. For the first time in days, maybe even weeks, she smiles back at me, and as she picks up the can of hairspray to secure the style in place, she says, "You look really pretty tonight, Ana."

"Thanks, babe." I tell her. "And you know that you're always perfection."

Once my hair is finished, I give Kate a hug and then head back to my bedroom to change into the over priced dress still waiting for me. A deep sense of regret washes over me as I step out of my yoga pants and tank top and then squeeze into the form fitting dress. It's tight all the way down to my knees and then pools over the floor a little, even after I put on my heels, and as I take a few steps to my dresser, I wonder how I'm going to make it through the night without falling.

The earrings I borrowed from Kate and wore on my first date with Christian are still in my jewelry box, and since I don't have diamond earrings of my own, I take them out and slip them in each ear. As I do, I see the black velvet box that contains the necklace that Christian bought for me for Christmas. I still can't believe he thought he could replace something so sentimental to me, upgrade it even, but since I have a part to play, I reach into the box and pull it out to wear tonight. Once it's around my neck, I turn to look in the mirror and frown. I still hate the way it feels and it looks almost like a collar, the kind you would put on a cat but with a heart instead of a little bell.

I hate it.

There's a knock on the front door which draws my attention, and as I gather the wrap and the small clutch that Christian had delivered along with the dress, I make my way out towards the living room, rolling my eyes slightly as I hear Kate yell that she'll get it over and over again.

When I get to the entrance hall, I find both Christian and Elliot standing there, and while Elliot kind of dodges Kate's advances and then gives her a quick peck on the cheek, Christian steps forward and pulls me into him, immediately claiming my lips with his own. I moan as I feel his tongue brush past my lips and his hands trace soft lines up the bare skin on my arms.

"This dress looks absolutely stunning on you, Anastasia." He whispers.

"Thank you." I reply. "It's very beautiful."

"Then it suits you." He says, and his fingers reach up to touch the heart on my necklace. "You're wearing my gift."

"Of course."

There's a sudden change in his expression, so subtle it's hard to notice. Desire? Victory? I can't quite place it.

"Are you girls, ready?" Elliot asks.

"Almost." Kate tells him. "Just let me grab my coat." She scurries back down the hallway and Elliot turns to me.

"You're sure you're ready for tonight, Ana?" He asks. "It's going to be pretty boring. You might need a backup plan to get home so you can duck out early. Christian always gets fairly wrapped up in these things with everyone coming to pay homage and what not."

"That won't be necessary." Christian says, dismissively. "Ana's going to come stay with me tonight."

"I am?" I ask, surprised, and he nods his head. I glance over and see the muscle in Elliot's jaw tighten, but before he can say anything more, Kate returns with her coat draped over her arm. Elliot helps her into it and as we step through the front door and I fall a step behind Christian going down the stairs, Elliot leans over to whisper in my ear.

"You really do look beautiful tonight, baby."

My muscles seem to seize as I look at Christian, examining his posture for any indication that he may have just heard what Elliot said, but that doesn't seem to be the case. I turn a sharp glare on Elliot, trying to warn him to keep his distance, but he just gives me a cocky, half smile and then turns to reach his hand back for Kate's.

Apparently, the yacht club isn't big enough for the event tonight, so rather than drive all the way north to Queen Anne, Taylor takes the exit that leads us into the heart of downtown to the Four Seasons. It's the fanciest hotel I've ever been in, possibly even the fanciest building I've ever been in, except maybe Christian's apartment. Everything is glittering. Everywhere I look I can see large arrangements of flowers flowing over ornate vases, and waiters in white coats carrying glasses of champagne, and we've only made it into the front entrance hall. The people milling around us look like royalty and it immediately has me feeling insecure. I _really_ don't belong here.

"I'm going to find my parents. I'll be right back." Kate says. Elliot nods and just as she begins to walk away, Christian turns to me.

"I'll take your coat and return with champagne."

"Okay." I nod, moving so that he can slide my coat off my shoulders, and as I watch him disappear into the crowd towards the coat check, I feel Elliot grip onto my upper arm and then pull me into a secluded alcove out of sight of the other party guests.

"You look amazing tonight, Ana." He whispers as he pins me against the wall and kisses me deeply. Immediately though, I begin pushing against him, trying to get him off of me.

"What are you doing? Christian will be right back. He'll see us!"

"Mmm, think of how bad that would hurt." Elliot replies, huskily. "The embarrassment he'd feel having our secret exposed in front of everyone he knows and respects."

"He doesn't love me yet, Elliot. I can't hurt him the way he hurt Leila until he truly loves me."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that…" Elliot says darkly.

"What do you mean?

He shakes his head. "Nothing. Look, I have a room in this hotel for tonight. I wanted to stay the entire night with you."

"I have to go to Escala." I reply, and he frowns.

"Well, take the key." He says, shoving it into my hand. "We'll sneak away the first chance we get."

I look up at him, at the hope and desire reflecting down at me through his eyes, and then put the key in my clutch.

"I have to go." I tell him. "Christian is going to see us together."

He doesn't stop me as I turn to walk away from him, which is good because I only get a few feet of distance between us before I see Christian walking through the crowd with two flutes of champagne in his hands.

"Are you ready?" He asks. I take a small sip of champagne, nod, and then slip my arm through his and allow him to lead me into the grand ballroom.

Elliot was right earlier, the party is extremely dull. The food was good and the champagne seems to be endless, but the only music comes from a full 50 piece orchestra and there isn't any dancing. Instead, I spend most of the night standing silently at Christian's side, watching dozens of important looking men come up to him to talk about market speculation. I want to actually fade away into the background, maybe even join Christian's family on the other side of the ballroom so I could at least talk to Mia, but Christian insists on having me on his arm the entire night so he can introduce me to each and every person that comes to greet him.

About an hour and a half into the night, I spot Kate walking by with two equally perfect looking girls flocked around her and I think for the briefest second she's going to come rescue me, but she doesn't. Instead, she stops about 50 or so feet away from me and then nods into my direction. As if they all have marionette strings attached to their heads, the girls at her side immediately turn to look and the moment they see me, they turn back to Kate and start whispering.

"Pâté, Miss?" A waiter asks, drawing my attention away from Kate. He's holding a large silver tray covered in crackers that look as though they have wet cat food smeared on them. I take a cracker and thank the waiter, but when he leaves and I take a bite, I immediately gag and have to reach behind me for a napkin on the table to spit it out. I can hear the vindictive laughter of Kate and her friends next to me as I try and clean the awful taste out of my mouth with champagne, but the insecurity of standing in a room filled with people who are only even tolerating my presence because of the arm I'm currently clinging to, mixed with the middle school level of humiliation I'm feeling because of Kate, has my eyes burning with tears.

"I'll be right back." I whisper to Christian, untangling my arm from his, but he reaches over with his hand to stop me.

"Where are you going?"

"I just… I need to use the restroom." I pull my hand out of his grip and then storm off towards the exit. It takes a moment for me to find the bathroom with tears pooling in my eyes and obscuring my vision, but when I do, I'm happy to find that it's relatively empty.

"Get it together, Steele." I whisper to myself, yanking a paper towel out of the golden holder next to the sink to dab my eyes. Once I've gathered myself enough to control my tears and the angry blush in my cheeks has receded, I take a deep breath and then turn to make my way out of the bathroom. I'm only just a few steps into the hallway though, when I spot Kate again, still surrounded by her friends, and so I quickly duck behind a huge potted plant on a pedestal to hide from her line of sight.

"It's just humiliating." A girl with long curly brown hair says. "I mean, we all knew Christian Grey was into charity, but who knew he'd take it _that_ far?"

"It's just a phase." The blonde girl next to her adds. "All the boys we know go through it. They go for the lower class girls at first because those girls act like getting the chance to suck their dicks is some kind of great honor. But, once he starts getting serious, he'll dump her and move onto Addison. It's like with his brother. Elliot was whoring himself all over town and once he worked through that phase, he settled down with Kate. Honestly, this is the most normal thing we've seen from Christian in years."

"I think he feels sorry for her." Kate says. "Honestly. He met her while he was out with Elliot and I one night and she was so pathetic, I think he just wanted to do something nice to try and boost her self-confidence a little. But now he's stuck. She's kind of crazy and he's probably worried that if he just breaks it off with her, she'll do something insane that could damage his reputation. Not that he could much more damage than he's already doing being seen in public with her."

They all laugh and once again, I feel the sting of tears. _Et tu, Brute?_

"What the fuck did you just say?" A voice interrupts, and I peer around the plant a little more to see Christian standing a few feet down the hallway. Kate and her friends all turn to face him, and the moment they see the anger etched into his face, I watch the color completely drain from theirs.

"Christian… I-"

"Shut the fuck up, Kate. Anastasia is your best friend. Not these two. Ana. You live in the same fucking apartment that she does so don't act like you're some goddamn princess and she's too low for you to even afford her basic human decency."

"I-I.." Kate continues to stutter, but Christian cuts her off again.

"And to be clear, Ana isn't a phase that I will one day move through to get to one of you. I would _happily_ put a ring on her finger before I ever let you come near my cock, Addison."

My mouth pops open and I can feel my eyes widen as I turn to look at the girl with curly brown hair, who has suddenly turned a deep shade of red. She reaches up to cover her mouth and then turns away, hurrying up the hallway with her skirts billowing out behind her. Kate shoots a dark glare at Christian and then turns to follow Addison, pulling the other blonde girl, who looks to be in shock, along with her.

I watch Christian roll his eyes after them, and then turn towards the bathrooms, but when I step out from behind the plant to face him, he stops.

"Ana… I-I was just coming to find you. These parties can be dull, I know that, and I was worried you'd taken the opportunity to escape…" He hesitates, stepping closer to me and reaches up to drag his thumb under my eye.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't belong here." I sob. "I thought I could do this. I thought I could make myself a part of your world but, I can't."

The look of concern on Christian's face quickly changes into one of anger and he glances over his shoulder for a second, before turning his intense gaze back on me.

"Did you hear what they were saying?" He asks, and I nod. The muscle in his jaw flexes, and the fire is once again ignited in his gaze, but rather than turn to go after Kate and her friends again, he simply reaches out, pulls me into his arms, and holds me against him.

"You do belong, Ana." He says softly. "You belong right here."

"What about your reputation?" I ask, feeling the slice of pain as I recall Kate's hurtful words again, but he just lets out a harsh sounding huff.

"My reputation is fine, don't listen to them. Look, I've known them and girls just like them my entire life. They're spoiled and entitled. My favorite thing about you is that you are nothing like them."

"It's hard to feel superior to someone while I'm standing here in an $8000 dollar dress trying to be one of them." I tell him. "God, this is so humiliating."

"Well, maybe we should give them a taste of their own medicine…"

"What?"

"Kate, Addison, Jennifer… they've never felt the sting of humiliation. They've never been on the losing side and that's why they act like they own the world. Perhaps you and I could make the world a slightly better place for the New Year by giving them a taste of what they just did to you."

"H-how?" I ask and he smiles.

"Well, Kate's biggest problem has always been Elliot's inability to commit, right? For a good cause, Elliot might be willing to fuck Addison, with the right persuasion of course. Kate's told everyone who would listen tonight that she's finally locked my brother down so, not only would she be humiliated when everyone we know finds out her boyfriend cheated on her, but she'd also lose her most loyal follower. Power comes from the people who serve you, it's not an inherent thing. If she loses the group of girls who put her up on a pedestal, she loses everything."

I bite down on my lip as I consider Christian's plan. It's good. I know exactly how Kate would react to finding out Elliot had cheated on her again, especially after he finally admitted they were official, but there is one flaw in that plan. Elliot wants to fuck me tonight, and I don't know that he'd be willing to do something with Addison while I'm around. I can't say that to Christian though, so I quickly think of a new approach.

"I like it, but I don't think Addison will sleep with Elliot…"

"You'd be surprised." Christian says, rolling his eyes, but I shake my head.

"No, she's too afraid of Kate. It's too risky for her. Besides, she doesn't want Elliot… She wants you."

Christian takes a step back. "You want _me_ to fuck her?"

"No." I reply, shaking my head quickly. "I don't want you to _actually_ have sex with her, but maybe you could make her think you're going to."

"What do you mean?"

"Elliot has a room in this hotel and… _Kate_ has a key. I can steal it from her and you can give it to Addison. Tell her it's your room and that you want to take her up there, but that you need to distract me first. Tell her to wait there for you. I'll tell Kate I heard Elliot saying he was about ready to go up to his room so she'll go try to get her key but it'll be missing and she'll have to replace it. When she goes upstairs…"

"She'll find Addison." Christian says, finally catching on.

"And Kate will think that she's there for Elliot. When Addison tries to say she was there for you, Kate's not going to believe her because she just had it confirmed by that front desk that the room is in Elliot's name."

"You are an evil little genius." He says, smiling down at me approvingly.

"I try." I reply, and he lets out a low moan before leaning down to kiss me. I kiss him back, letting my lips linger against his for a moment, and then pull away.

"I've got to go get the key." I tell him. "You need to think about how you're going to seduce Addison."

"Oh don't worry, baby. That's not going to be a problem."

I kiss him once more and then hurry off to the coat check, working through the differences in the plan I told Christian and what's actually going to happen. The key to Elliot's room is actually in the clutch in my hand, but to keep up appearances with Christian, I duck into the coat check and linger for a moment so that it looks like I'm going through Kate's bag. After a few minutes, I pull the key card out of my clutch and then hurry back to Christian, who is waiting in the ballroom with Addison already set firmly in his sights.

"Here." I say, holding the card out for him.

"Perfect." He replies. "I need you to stay out of sight for me to do this. I'll pull Addison aside, but you'll have to try and get Kate away from Jennifer."

"Okay, that shouldn't be hard." I agree.

"One more thing." He says, and then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key card that looks identical to the one I gave him.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Elliot's card." Christian says. "I told him I'd get him a better room if he'd let me use his, and he agreed. Now there's no way he can come in and ruin everything, and you and I can hide and watch everything go down between Kate and Addison."

I bite down on my lip as I try to hide the smile his suggestion elicits, and after draining his glass of champagne, he winks at me, and then crosses the ballroom to where Addison is standing alone for the first time tonight. I slink back into the shadows, trying to stay out of sight as I watch Christian talking to her, and the first peak of doubt creeps into my mind as I see her initial reaction. Miraculously though, he's able to pull her out of the ballroom a few seconds later.

"Would you look at that?" A voice whispers in my ear, and I turn to see Elliot. "You know, I was a little disgusted when I thought he was going to fuck _you_ in my hotel room, but that doesn't seem to be the case after all."

"Wh-what do you mean?" I stutter.

"Christian asked me for the key card to my room. I wasn't going to give it to him because I couldn't stand the thought that'd I'd paid for a room for _him_ to fuck you in, but then I thought if I gave it to him, at least he wouldn't take you home… This is a much more interesting turn of events. We could get another room, take more pictures, more video. I could leak them before anyone finds out about tonight so it looks like you cheated first."

"Are you saying you don't think my plan is working?" I ask him.

"I'm saying that you're standing right here and my brother is about to go dump a load in Addison Shultz."

"Well…" I say, fighting the knowing smile that threatens to reveal our scheme. "I suppose I'll have to try harder then. Excuse me."

"Ana…" Elliot calls after me, but I ignore him and move through the ballroom towards Kate, who has just re-entered the ballroom and seems to be looking around for Addison.

"Kate?" I call to catch her attention. Her head shoots up and she immediately gives me a worried look.

"If Christian told you I said things about you, he's lying. He's mad about… me and Elliot and he told me he was going to start a fight between us to hurt me."

"No, he hasn't said anything." I reply, trying not to roll my eyes at the obvious lie. "I was actually just coming to tell you that Elliot had gotten a hotel room and he's trying to sneak away from the party. He wants you to go get a key from the front desk."

"Oh." She says. "Well, I guess I'd better go say goodnight to my family then. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Actually, I'm going to Christian's for a few days." I tell her. "But I'll see you when I get home."

"Great. Love you, Ana."

"You too." I say brightly, and then I give her the same fake smile I've seen her give me a thousand times as she hurries away towards her family.

With a deep breath, I turn too, but in the opposite direction, towards the elevators. Christian is already there waiting for me and the moment he sees me come through the double doors, he presses the button that opens the elevator to us and ushers me inside.

"I told her to head upstairs in five minutes. We're not going to have long to get out of sight."

"Okay." I nod, and then he gently pushes me back against the wall and kisses me for the rest of the elevator ride.

The room is larger than I expected, though that seems silly in hindsight since this is one of the nicest hotels in Seattle. Christian takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom, checking the angles with the mirror over the vanity so that we can see, but so that we're also hidden from the view of the room by the door. He holds me close to him while we wait, and his fingers follow the lines of the pattern in my dress, sending shivers of pleasure up my spine. My whole body feels electrified with anticipation, and when the door to the room finally opens and we see Addison step inside, I reach down to grip onto his hand, silently expressing my excitement.

"Christian?" Addison calls softly, turning on the light and peering around the room. I freeze, wondering if she's going to come and check the bathroom, but I suppose she assumes the room is empty since Christian doesn't answer her and the bathroom we're standing in is still dark.

The mirror gives us a surprisingly good view of the room, which is awkward as Addison begins stripping out of her clothes.

"I told her to be naked for me." Christian whispers in my ear. "I thought it would add to what's to come."

I turn to smile at him and then refocus, watching as Addison lays on the bed and tries out several seductive poses while she waits. By the time we hear the electronic sound that signals another key is being placed in the lock, Christian and I are both shaking with silent laughter.

"Elliot?" Kate asks as she steps through the door, but the moment she turns and sees Addison struggling to cover herself, her mouth pops open and her face immediately goes bright red.

"What are you doing here?" Kate demands.

"Me?" Addison squeals back. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm here because Elliot is my boyfriend and this is our room. God, I knew you were desperate for a Grey but I never thought you'd sink this low you two-timing whore!"

"Elliot?" Addison replies, shocked. "This is Christian's room!"

"What do you think I'm stupid?" Kate screams at her. "Stop lying! You thought you could get into _my_ boyfriend's room to fuck him and I wouldn't know about it? After everything I have been through with Elliot, I never thought you'd be the one to do this, Addison!"

"I didn't. I swear to you, I got this key from Christian."

"Christian?" Kate screams. "You expect me to believe that the man who literally just told you 15 minutes ago that you don't have a chance in hell of getting his dick suddenly turned around and asked to fuck you? What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"I swear to you, Kate. That's what happened."

"This is Elliot's room, you stupid bitch. His name is on the reservation, not Christian's."

"I-I…"

"You are so done." Kate says, her voice icy. "I am going to tell everyone what a slut you really are. I am going to ruin you."

"Kate, please…"

"Shut the fuck up, and keep my name out of our mouth. We are not friends and you are going to regret coming after my man more than you have regretted anything in your entire life. I know things about you Addison, and now… All of Seattle is going to know."

Christian takes my hand and pulls it back to him so that I can feel the rock hard bulge in the front of his pants as Kate turns to storm out of the room. I can still picture the look of hurt, betrayal, and humiliation on her face as she turned to leave like it's been burned into my retinas, and as Addison devolves into tears on the floor, I feel a welcome wave of vindication.

"I cannot wait to get you home tonight." Christian whispers, and I tighten my fingers around his erection, the exhilaration from the sight of Addison's pain fueling the heat pooling between my legs. We stand there, silently, until finally, Addison peels herself off the floor, dresses again, and hurries out of the room.

"Home." Christian grunts. "Now."

I nod, and then grip tightly to his hand as he pulls me from the room, waiting to hear the ding from the elevator that signals Addison has begun the descent to the ground floor before he rounds the corner and pushes the call button for us.

Once Christian and I have our jackets back from the coat check in the lobby, he's quick to pull me through the doors and into the SUV waiting for us on the curb. Taylor doesn't wait for instruction before he pulls into the street and almost the second I've closed my door behind me, Christian pulls me into him and his lips come crashing down on mine. The ferocity of his kiss is slightly startling and the hungry way his hands grope my body as he pulls me into him leaves me feeling slightly flushed with embarrassment as I shift my eyes towards Taylor.

"Ignore him." Christian groans against my mouth. His teeth tug against my bottom lip and when I whimper in response, he forces his tongue past my lips again and pushes me back into the seat. His body consumes me and his hands seem to be everywhere at once. I can feel him pulling at the hem of my gown, exposing my legs as he fights with the tight fabric to get his hand under my dress, and once he makes contact with my panties, I have a brief moment of panic as I think he might intend to fuck me right here in the car, with Taylor only a few feet away.

"Christian…" I protest, though my voice is too laced with desire to really demonstrate my concerns about Taylor's presence

"Ana." He moans back.

My thighs clench together as he touches me through my panties and continues to devour me with his kiss. Soon, my skin is hot and overly sensitive to the slightest touch. I can feel the ache growing between my legs as his fingers continue to tease me. When the car finally comes to a stop in the parking garage beneath Christian's building, I'm ready to sprint for the elevators.

Christian doesn't release me or pause his kiss until Taylor has gotten out of the car and opened my door for me. Then, he's quickly ushering me from the backseat and into the elevator, pounding furiously on the door close button and then the numbers that make up the code for the penthouse. Once we're fully shut away in the elevator and begin travelling upward, Christian pushes me back into the wall and claims my mouth with his once more.

"You're so fucking hot tonight, Anastasia." He whispers, "I don't think I've ever been more turned on in my life. I need to fuck you. Now."

His hands reach for the neckline of my dress and he grips the fabric tightly in his fists before pulling on it with an excessive use of his strength and shreds the material down to my mid thigh. I'm briefly incensed as I look down at the tattered remains of the beautiful dress, thinking about the cost once more, but since he's the one who paid that outrageous price, I suppose he has every right to destroy it.

Suddenly, Christian drops to his knees in front of me, sliding his fingers under my panties and pushing them aside so that his tongue can find its way between my lower lips. I groan and lean back into the wall behind me, feeling as though my knees may buckle as I feel his tongue massaging me.

"You enjoyed tonight, didn't you?" He asks, lookup up into my eyes while he uses his fingers to continue pleasuring me. "You liked getting revenge on your friend."

My legs begin to quiver as his fingers invigorate my g-spot and I feel the promising rise of an orgasm begin to grow deep inside my belly. He leans forward again and suck on my clitoris, pulling gently with his lips while holding my eyes.

"You liked hurting them, didn't you, Anastasia?" He continues, and I can see the answer he wants behind his eyes.

"Yes." I breathe, but for the first time since I've entered Christian Grey's life, my answer isn't merely a placation, nor a stoking of his wants and desires in the vain attempt to get him to fall in love with me. My acquiescence isn't about Leila, I truly did feel a vindictive pleasure in the humiliation, and anger, and yes… hurt, behind Kate's eyes tonight. It felt good to know that I caused her pain after all of the things she's said about me, after the way she's treated me like some flea-bitten charity case that she's had to drastically lower her standards for in order to be my friend. Kate has often been the root cause for so much of the self-loathing, insecurity, and doubt I've felt over the past few years, it felt good to see her brought down a peg, humanized, and to know that she didn't win this time.

"I liked it, too." Christian says. "I really fucking liked it. You've pleased me tonight, Anastasia, and I want to reward you."

The doors to the elevator open and Christian quickly gets to his feet and pulls me into his apartment. I shrug out of the remains of the dress hanging loosely from my shoulders, leaving it carelessly on the floor in front of the elevator, and then try wrap my arms around his neck to kiss him again, but before I can reach him, he grabs ahold of me, and spins me around so that my backside is pressed against his erection. He reaches out with his free hand and swipes a crystal vase filled with an elaborate arrangement of Christmas flowers off the table in the middle of the foyer, sending it crashing to the ground where it shatters into a dozen glittering pieces. In the next instant, he has me bent over the table with each of my wrists secured behind my back with his other hand. I can hear the jingle of his belt as he undoes his fly and then, he's inside of me, thrusting harder than I'm prepared for.

"Oh, fuck!" I cry out.

"That's it, baby. Scream for me." He growls. I don't hold back. Every sharp, thrust of him inside of me is punctuated by a loud, harsh cry that reverberates in my chest. Soon, I can feel the raw, unyielding pleasure of my orgasm building inside of me and I'm desperate to grab onto the table, just to feel anchored to something as my body is overcome, but when I struggle against his hold on my wrists, his other hand flies out and hits me hard on the ass.

"Don't fight me, Anastasia." He commands, but the heat continues to intensify and soon I'm almost attempting to struggle away from him involuntarily.

"Please, Christian!" I whine. "I can't… oh, fuck!"

"Take it, baby." He replies, his voice ringing with an authority that seems to resonate with something very deep inside of me. I whimper once more as I feel the quickening inside of me begin. My whole body is shaking and I can feel my vaginal walls tightening around him as I inch closer and closer to release. "Fuck, you're getting so tight, Ana. Are you going to come?"

"Yes!" I scream. He reaches out and takes a handful of my hair, pulling harshly to turn my head around so that I'm looking at him.

"Beg me for it." He says. I open my mouth, trying to form some kind of coherent sentence but the only thing that comes out is a series of disjointed gasps and moans. "Beg me, Ana!" He repeats, further tightening his fingers in my hair. "Beg me to come or I will take you upstairs, tie you down, and fuck your mouth until I come down your throat."

"Please!" I manage at last. "Please, Christian. Make me come… I-I- Oh my god!" It starts slow and seems to burn its way through my body, from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes, until my orgasm consumes me. My entire body feels like a live wire, humming with the overwhelming sense of ecstasy flowing through me like a powerful, unruly river. Everything around me gets lost in the cloud of euphoria, Christian's voice, his movements inside of me, even the second, then third strike of his hand on my ass. It's all lost in the pleasure.

Christian's thrusts slow, become more and more calculated and purposeful as I come down to earth. When the quickening stops, he pulls out of me, then yanks me up off the table to kiss me. I wrap my arms around him and open my lips for his tongue again.

"Come with me." He says, and he pulls my hand from behind his head and then leads me through the living room and into his bedroom.

"Christian." I moan, moving to kiss him again, but he stops me by grabbing onto my chin and holding my face in place with his long, strong fingers.

"Get on your knees and open your mouth." He orders me. "You're going to suck your come off my cock."

"Please, Christian. I want you to fuck me again."

"Did I ask you what you wanted?" He asks. The molten gray in his eyes seems to harden slightly as he stares down at me and I quickly shake my head. "No, I didn't. Now get on your fucking knees, Anastasia." I comply immediately and reach up to grab his erection, but before I've even touched him, he pushes my hand away. "Not your hands, baby. Just your mouth."

Sitting higher up on my knees, I turn my eyes up to his and then lean forward to wrap my lips around him. He groans and then pushes forward, controlling the pace and depth while once again keeping his eyes away from my mouth and staring straight down into mine. I allow him to take control, keeping my lips tight around him as he moves in and out of my mouth. When he begins to push too far, I feel my throat tighten around him and I gag, but rather than pull away, he holds his cock in the back of my throat to feel the muscles spasm around him.

"Oh fuck, yeah." He whispers, tilting his head back. I'm struggling to breathe and just when I think I'm going to have to force myself off of him, he pulls out of my mouth and grabs me by my arms, pulling me up to my feet. "On the bed."

Again, I'm quick to comply as, even though my first orgasm nearly rattled me to my core, it wasn't enough to sate my lust for him. He kneels onto the bed between my knees, grabs onto my hips, and lifts me so that I'm even with his erection. I tighten my leg over his to help hold myself in place but his strong hands around my hips hold me securely as he pushes himself inside of me again.

He isn't slow this time either, there's no easing me back into a rhythm we set together. He takes me hard and fast, pulling me against him each time he thrusts forward and each sharp thrust seems to hit me in exactly the right place to feed the libidinous fire growing inside of me. I reach down between my legs to massage my clitoris in time with his strokes, but he slaps my hand away again.

"Do not touch yourself, Anastasia." He growls. " _I_ will get you off. You do not control your pleasure."

"Christian, I-I.." I pant, but before I can form a coherent sentence, he pulls out of me, flips me onto my stomach so that I'm flat on the mattress, presses his whole body against me, and then thrusts inside of me again. I'm pinned beneath his weight, helpless against his assault, and the inability to move or squirm away from the overpowering heat building inside of me, intensifies everything. I'm hyper aware of every movement he makes, the change in his cadence, the increasing harshness of his breathing. It drives me nearly to the brink of insanity as the only thing I can focus on is the strength of the orgasm I know is only moments away and how much I want it.

"You like that, baby?" He asks, his own need breaking through in his voice now.

"Yes." I whisper back. His hand slides up the back of my right arm, softly touching my skin until he entwines his fingers with mine. I squeeze his hand and he thrusts forward again, but this time he holds his erection deep inside of me.

"Mmm, think about it while I fuck you, Anastasia." He moans. "I want you to remember every moment of tonight. Think of Kavanagh's face when she thought her friend had betrayed her. Picture the look in Addison's eyes as Kate eviscerated her, humiliated her. Imagine the pain they're both feeling now. We did that. You and I, and it's a beautiful thing. Oh fuuuuuck, just thinking about it is going to make me come."

"Oh god, Christian." I breathe, grinding against him to try and increase the friction between us.

"It's going to get you off too, isn't it?" He asks. "Replaying tonight in your mind while I'm preparing to fill your pretty little pussy with my come."

"Yes." I pant, "Please, Christian. Harder. Make me come again."

"Surrender yourself to me, Anastasia." He whispers in my ear. "Surrender to me and I will give you pleasure like you've never experienced before."

"I have. Please, Christian!"

"Who do you belong to?" He asks, slowly increasing his pace.

"You." I whimper.

"That's right, Ana. Your body belongs to me. Your pussy is mine to do with as I please. _You_ are mine."

"Yours." I cry out, feeling the heat build as he starts to move faster.

"Oh fuck, baby." Christian groans. "This is it. Do you want to come with me?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me again. Who do you belong to?"

"You." I repeat. "I belong to you."

He slams into me, the ferocity now matching his speed, and I cry out as I feel the trembling beginning deep inside of me.

"Say my name, Anastasia. Who do you belong to?"

"Christian!" I shout. "Oh god, fuck! I belong to Christian Grey."

"Scream." He demands, his voice hard and gravelly now that he's approaching his own release.

"Christian!" I shout, his name escaping my lips in a high keening moan, but in response, he reaches into my hair and yanks on it harshly again.

"Not like that." He growls. " _Scream_ , Anastasia. Scream like I'm hurting you."

I hesitate for a moment, so he pulls my hair again, hard enough that he does in fact elicit a pain filled shriek from me, and when I hear the satisfied sound he makes in response, I take it a step further.

"No, Christian, please!" I cry out. "You're hurting me!"

"Oh fuck, Ana!" He shouts in response. "Yes!"

His hand releases my hair and moves down to my hip, holding me in place and giving himself better leverage as he ravages me. My eyes begin to water from the overwhelming pleasure building inside of me and when a tear rolls down my cheek, he moans and reaches out to wipe it away.

"Fuck, Christian. Please!" I scream again, letting the tremble break through my voice.

"That's right, Anastasia. Fuck, you're going to make me come. Give it up for me, baby. Come with me, do it now."

My hands twist into the sheets as I grip onto them for dear life while the heat in my core begins building and building to the point of no return.

"Now, Anastasia!" Christian commands. "Come on my fucking cock."

The pressure explodes and sends shockwaves through my whole body seizing my muscles with pleasure so intense, my vision goes white. I scream Christian's name into the pillow as I hear his deep, satisfied moan and feel him release inside of me. Our breathing comes in hard, synchronized gasps as we lose ourselves in one another and for a brief, blissful moment, I think we're never going to come down.

We do though, eventually, and once the pleasure recedes, Christian pulls out and rolls onto the bed next to me. I shift in his arms so that he's spooning me, but rather than wrap his arm around me, he lowers his hand between my legs and slides his fingers in me again.

"Mmm." He hums, and then whispers softly in my ear. "I can feel my come inside of you. Right where it should be."

"Yes." I breathe back. He continues to move his fingers in and out of me for a moment then pulls them from between my legs, up to my breast, and wraps them tightly around my still hardened nipple, coating it with our combined release.

"I want you to get out of bed, clean yourself up, and then come back to me. I think you're finally ready, Anastasia, and you're going to need your rest. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Ready?" I ask, unsure what he means, but he simply smiles down at me in response.

"You'll see, now go. I don't repeat myself."

I bite down on my lip as he releases me, and while I get out of bed and make my way to his bathroom, I feel a shiver of trepidation wash over me. _I'm ready?_ Ready for what?

What have I done?


	17. Chapter 17

**Ana POV:**

Slowly, I come out of the fog of sleep. I can feel the bedsheets wound uncomfortably around my body, and I attempt a half hearted tug to removed them, but my body just feels too heavy to even be worth the effort. God, I slept like a rock last night- and then I remember why. I barely have time to reminisce the sex I had with Christian because when I open my eyes, he's there, propped up on his elbow, staring down at me.

I jump a little in surprise at finding him awake next to me, looking at me the way he is. It's not a lazy look, not a wistful one that insinuates he was reminiscing last night also. The look in his eyes is determined and intense, way too much so for me to deal with comfortably after having just woken up. It makes me immediately uneasy. "What are you doing?" I ask, my voice scratchy with sleep.

"I want to show you something," he says, then gets up out of the bed. "After we shower and eat. Come," he says with such finality that I know there'd be no point in arguing, even if I disagreed with his plans. He doesn't even turn to look back at me as he saunters off into the bathroom. I watch his naked ass the whole way, feeling the low hum of arousal already in my belly. He's really got a fantastic ass. Who am I kidding? He's got a fantastic _everything_.

I stretch slowly, working the kinks from my muscles, which are still slightly sore from last night, just like everything else seems to be. He really put me through the ringer. I sit up to untangle myself from the bedsheets when I hear him call my name from the bathroom. I roll my eyes but still do hurry to him, and when I get there he's already in the shower. I join him, and he surprises me by immediately wrapping his hand around the back up my neck, leaning down, and planting a firm, possessive kiss on my lips. When he pulls back after a few long moments, I give him a smile, which he returns before moving over to allow me access to the water.

I expect the shower to include sex, just because everything with us does, lately, but it doesn't. He does wash my hair for me, and my body, but it never escalates past that. When we're done, he leaves me to blow dry my hair, insisting he doesn't want me to catch a cold walking around with wet hair, and goes off to get breakfast ready. I get my hair as straight as a brush and blow dry will allow, then throw on some clothes before meeting him at the breakfast bar, just as he's plating up a quiche Mrs. Jones must have had prepared before hand for the weekend.

I survey him quickly, noting the fact that he's dressed more than just casually. He's wearing a ratty old pair of torn up jeans and a plain black t-shirt, and briefly I wonder if he's planning on showing me something where we might get dirty or otherwise mess up our clothes. I have on a blouse and a nice pair a jeans he'd gotten for me. Maybe I should change? The thought is fleeting though, as he motions to the food and tells me to eat.

I dig in, not having realized until I smelled the food just how famished I was. Conversation is minimal, limited to the weather and work, and I feel the tension starting to build. He'd said he wanted to show me something, and given the way he's acting a little more stern than usual, I'm starting to think I have a pretty good idea of what that thing is, or at least what it entails. He mentioned something about me being 'ready' last night. I have a sinking feeling that whatever I'm about to see, it's going to have to do with the BDSM part of his life.

After we finish eating, I go to wash the dishes, but he tells me we can worry about that later. "Come, I want to show you something," he says, holding his hand out to me. I nod, taking it, and follow him to the staircase. He leads me to a closed door hiding a room I've never been in before, pulls a key from his pocket, and then inserts it into the door. I hear the click as he turns it, and I feel my heartbeat pick up even faster as he steps to the side, simultaneously pushing the door open and putting his hand on the small of my back to usher me into the doorway.

My eyes flit across the room, unsure of where to settle- the giant 'X' against the far wall? The rows of… implements hanging? The giant, ostentatious bed adorned with red sheets? Any of the other things I see, but can't even begin to place a name to or figure out the use for?

I feel the fear creeping up from my chest to my throat. This is it. This is the room where he does his secret Dominant stuff. And he's showing it to me. We've finally reached that point in our relationship where he's decided he could trust me with this. But I have no idea what him showing this to me means. Does he just want to share this piece of his life with me because our relationship is progressing and he doesn't want this big secret looming over him anymore? Or does he want to do this _with_ me? I have no idea. But I know it's important that I don't overreact or underreact to this. I don't want him to suspect that I already knew about this side of him, but I don't want to make him regret trusting me with his biggest secret either.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Ana."

"I'm not sure what I'm thinking," I say, not wanting to say anything offensive. "I don't want to jump to any conclusions, so will you explain this to me a little bit before I let my mind run wild?"

He gives me a smile, then steps into the room. I both see and feel a shift in him the moment he crosses the threshold. I'm not sure how this man could appear more confident, more composed, more authoritative, but the moment he steps into the room, he is more of all of those things. He looks around the room, then does a slow turn back to face me. Holding out his arms and gesturing slightly to the space around him he says, "This is my playroom."

His gaze it so intense that it's hard to hold, so I look away for a moment, and I swear I see him smirking when I look back.

"I've never had a relationship like the one you and I have, Ana. Normally I only do this."

"Okay," I say, "And what is _this_?"

" _This_ is BDSM."

"Bondage, discipline, sadism, masochism," I say quietly.

"You know about BDSM?" he asks, an undeniably excited lilt to his voice.

"I've heard some things about it," I admit, not wanting him to think I'm completely oblivious to this even existing. I'm not a good enough actress to pull off the completely innocent thing, when I've actually spent a lot of time researching this because of Leila. "But I've never practiced it or anything, so I just have a very general understanding of whips and chains and stuff I've seen spoofed in movies."

"Well it certainly is a lot more involved than that," he says seriously. "It's not just something I've practiced sporadically. It's a whole sexual lifestyle and I've been involved in it for a long time."

"How exactly are you involved?" I ask, hoping he'll be frank with me about just how seriously he actually takes this.

"For me personally, it's about control. About power. I am a Dominant. I exert my will over a submissive of my choosing. I have a set of rules laid out in a contract that we both sign, and I expect those rules to be followed absolutely. She is rewarded if she obeys. She is punished if she does not. It is all very simple, actually."

"So," I say, my eyes flitting around the room again before finding his, "Where do I fit into this part of your life?"

He smiles, closing the gap between us. His hands find my face, cupping my cheeks, tilting my head up so my face is angled toward his. "I love what we do. I've never experienced what I've experienced with you. But I love what I've always done in this room too. And I think if I can get you in here, if I can do some of the things I do in here, with you, we could set the world on fire, baby. You love the way I fuck you right?"

"Yes," I squeak out with a blush.

"I haven't even done a tenth of what I could do to you if I had you in here. Last night was an eye opener for me. I always saw you as sweet and innocent, but last night, I saw a different side of you. I saw something a little dark, and I think you might enjoy some of the things I could do to you."

To you. Not with you, _to_ you. I feel dread at that one little word. I attempt a deep but inconspicuous breath to calm my pounding heart and surging nerves.

"Would you hurt me?" I ask, actually managing a steady voice.

"Pain is part of it, yes," he says without hesitation. "But you'd be surprised how pleasurable pain can be, Ana. The way I fucked you last night, there was pain in that right? But it was worth it. The pain heightened the pleasure. That's what this would be like too. I'd give you pain but turn it into a pleasure so intense you can't even fathom it right now."

I can't help the look of apprehension that I know is on my face. I always anticipated that we would end up here, but now that it's arrived, I'm having second thoughts. I saw what he did to Leila. I don't want that to happen to me.

"I'd never hurt you more than you could take, Ana," he assures me. "And there will be safe words. Yellow if you're reaching your threshold. Red to stop immediately. Using them if you feel you need to is paramount for trust to be built. I will always respect your safewords."

 _Safewords._ Okay, safewords were good. Did Leila have safewords? Did she use them? She must not have right? He said using them was 'paramount'. He said he'd always respect them.

I'm nervous. I so nervous about this, but this was always meant to be part of the deal. I'd always expected to end up here, and there was no point in backing out now when I've come this far. I have to do this. I just hope I can actually trust him to stop when I say stop.

"Okay," I say, albeit hesitantly. "I'll try."

 **Christian POV:**

I feel the excitement surge through me. _She said yes._ I feel my muscles tense with anticipation and the familiar shift of absolute authority overcome my senses. In here, I am God. In here, I am omnipotent. And I am finally going to have Anastasia in here, my playroom. I will finally get to fuck her no holds barred. Sure, the sex with her has already been amazing, but that only serves to allow me to believe having her in this room will be even more mindblowing, that the connection I seem to share with her will allow me to consume her more than I've ever been able to consume a sub before. And that's what I want. I want her to live and breathe for me. I want everything in her and everything about her to start and stop at my feet, and once I have attained that goal, I can use it to crush her, just like I planned from the start.

Last night was eye opening for me. I got to see Ana in a totally different light. I got to experience a dark side of her I didn't know existed, and it made me realize there was a good chance I could talk her into trying this with me today. I debated back and forth so much over our time together about when to introduce her to this part of my life, and last night was like a big red flashing sign to do it now. I know I can lure her into this slowly, be patient at first, draw her in with mostly good sex and a small amount of pain. I'll gain her trust, draw her further into the darkness, keep her high on orgasms. Then, as she comes to crave the things I can do to her, I can escalate it further and further until I finally am able to dominate her the way I really want to. Then once I've had my fill of her, I can carry out the rest of the plan to dismantle her to her core and leave her shattered before I walk away.

"We'll keep it pretty light to start. I know you're not used to this, so I'll be conscientious of that and give you some leeway. But there are rules," I say, slowly circling her, already imagining all the things I can do to her. "Rule number one: No talking. You speak when spoken to only, unless it's to safeword. If I ask you a question, I expect a prompt and succinct answer. That leads to rule number two: In here, you do not call me Christian. Sir or Master are the only acceptable ways to address me in here, and you will do so every time you speak, but again, only when I've addressed you first. Rule number three: My word is law. In here, you do as I say without question, without hesitation. If you have an issue, you safeword. But do not question my actions, ever."

I stop in front of her, giving her a once over as I give her a moment to protest any of my rules. She doesn't.

"Strip."

She looks up at me.

"Rule number four. You cannot make eye contact with me," I say, my voice a low growl. I don't want to see those big blue eyes in this room. A satisfied smirk dons my lips when her eyes snap down to the ground and her cheeks turn pink. _Good girl._

"Now, I said strip, and you've yet to do so. Breaking rule number three."

"Sorry," she squeaks, hastily tugging at the hem of her shirt. I let out an audibly frustrated sigh, stopping her.

"Sir," I remind her. "You should have said 'Sorry, sir.' But before that, you should have responded 'Yes, Sir,' and done what I asked immediately. And I don't want you to tear off your clothes like you would in your bedroom. Slowly. Sexily. I want you to peel them off. Reveal what belongs to me in an appealing way."

She bites her lip, another habit I intend to break, but decide to save for another day. She grasps the hem of her blouse, slowly pulling it up and over her head, letting go so it floats gently to the floor at her side. I let my eyes roam the skin she's revealed, but I remain impassive. I can tell she's uneasy, which again, is something I will force out of her with time. If there's one thing I want her to have confidence in, it's her body in this room. But for now, today, I actually enjoy watching her squirm under my gaze. She's _should_ be nervous.

Her slightly shaky hands reach for the button on her jeans, which she pops before gliding the short zipper down. She hooks her thumbs around the waist, inching them down over the swell of her hips. I can sense her over concentrating on getting them off from around her ankles before she finally set them down on top of her blouse. She straightens back up, her hands moving awkwardly for a moment before resting at her sides, her fingers fidgeting.

"Bra," I demand, then watch her quickly flick open the closure at the back, pulling her arms from the straps before removing it entirely from her chest and adding it to the pile at her side.

She looks good, standing here in my playroom in nothing but her panties. I've waited a long time for this, and I want to savor it.

I stalk around her, taking in the full view of her pale, flawless skin. I close the distance between our bodies, pressing my hips into hers from behind. Deciding to give her a little dose of pain right away, I reach for her breasts, cupping them in my palms, feeling the weight of them, before I simultaneously pinch both nipples hard between my thumb and index finger. She lets out a whimper, and I shush her quietly in her ear before pinching again, even harder. Her body arches back against mine as she tries to shy away from the pain.

"Hold still, Anastasia," I growl, squeezing tighter, but I do feel her pull back away from me as she attempts to obey by standing up straight again.

"Sorry, Sir," she whispers. I feel a jolt of deep excitement at her words, but it is quickly replaced by frustration when I realize my sudden desire to sink my teeth into her neck is hindered by the fact that her hair is all over the place. Reluctantly letting her nipples go far earlier than I wish to, I quickly braid her hair straight down her back, securing it with a hair tie I have in the pocket of my playroom jeans.

I debate returning my attention to her breasts, so I can alternate bits of pain between tugging on her nipples and bites on her shoulders and neck, like I wanted to a moment ago, but I decide to forgo it. The moment was lost with the interruption of her hair. Instead I opt to see her in the sub position I'll expect her to be in from now on when I enter the room.

"Whenever we come in here, you will enter first. You will be here," I say, motioning to the spot on the floor where I want her, "In only your panties, on your knees, hands on your thighs, head down." She hesitates only a moment before realizing I expect her to do it, that I'm not just spouting off information for the hell of it. She gets down how I described, and I use my foot to kick her thighs open a little further until I'm pleased with her positioning. "You wait, however long, in this position, until I come in and direct you otherwise."

"Yes, Sir," she says.

I watch her for a moment, letting her get used to the idea of being there, still and waiting. I remove my shirt so I'm just in my playroom jeans and walk around the room, planning out my scene. I wish I could do a full blown, hardcore scene, but I know if I do it will definitely scare her off. I have to be smart about this. I have to make her trust me before I use that trust against her. So I try to decide how far I can go to satisfy the need in me without losing her right away.

Last night reawakened something in me. I'd been doing okay without the BDSM. When I'd first devised this plan, I thought I'd hate every minute of playing the typical 'boyfriend' role until I finally got to this point, but I hadn't hated it. I'd actually found myself enjoying parts of it. Of course I'd missed the power and control domination offered, but vanilla sex with Ana was still really fucking good. I never anticipated actually liking the woman I chose to execute this plan with. I expected to just go through the tedious motions until we got to this point, but I have to admit, it hadn't been tedious at all. I'd enjoyed it. But last night shifted things again. Now that I got a little taste of something more raw with her, I want it all. I want to take her down the dark path with me, far down, pulling her further and further until she can no longer see who she once was and loses herself in this the way I have. As I laid awake watching her sleep last night, I realized I'd let myself get distracted and stray off course too far for too long. I needed to move forward with what I'd set out to do here. Not to say I don't plan to enjoy it with her for a while. I will. Until I inevitably get bored, and then use it all to destroy her.

I debate what I want to use on her, but if I'm really only going to scratch the surface of what I want to do with her, I want to get the most out of it. A part of me wants to go with the tried and true use of my own hand, because at least this way I can really feel her, feel the sting as I connect with her flesh, feel the heat on my palm and fingers as the blood rushes to the surface of her skin. I got a taste of that last night when I had her bent over the foyer table but I want more than one good smack. I want to properly spank her.

But instead I opt for a crop. Something tame, but also an actual implement that will give her a taste of what's to come. It won't be terribly exciting for me, but at least it will be more sensory, and will satisfy a tactile need that I awoke last night, and that's better than the alternatives right now. I plan how I'm going to tie her up, and with what, and retrieve those various pieces of bondage, as well as a crop from the wall. I set them down on the chest of drawers, forcing myself not to rifle through for more add-ons.

Then I get Ana.

"Stand."

"Yes, Sir," she says, getting up less gracefully than I would like. She really needs work on that. But she keeps her eyes down and responds properly, so I guess I shouldn't be overly critical of her. It's just hard when I'm so used to demanding absolute perfection of my subs.

I lead her over to the padded whipping post I purchased when I took Leila on but have yet to use. I was furious when it took well past the estimated date to be finished, only for it to be delivered and I find they sent me the padded version, instead of the solid, finished cherry wood I had ordered. They offered to replace it, allowing me to keep this one in the meantime, but I'd told them to fuck off and vowed to never give them my business again. I had plans to just have one commissioned instead, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. But it'll work well for Ana, the padding giving her some creature comfort I otherwise wouldn't dream of offering a submissive.

I bought the piece mostly for the way they had built a decline footrest into the base for the submissive to stand on. It keeps her feet in the same position tall heels would, which in turn not only keeps her legs in a sexy line, but keeps her muscles strained and allows me better access to her pussy than if she were simply flat footed. Then I can bend her over the bar that's parallel to the floor and restrain her hands to the ones that run perpendicular, which is exactly what I do to Ana.

I tie rope around her wrists and secure her to the posts, then step back to admire her bent over and immobilized in front of me, her arms in a wide upside down 'V', her head hanging down, her legs stretched high so she can bend at the waist over the top post.

I run my hands up her long, lean legs, feeling the smooth, soft skin of her calves and thighs. I need to remove her panties in order to restrain her ankles, so I make quick work of sliding them down her legs and buckling her ankles into the provided leather ankle restraints. As I'm strapping them on, I notice her heels don't quite touch the wood under her feet, she's stretched so far forward over the post. Since this was purchased with Leila in mind, it was made with specifications for her body size. Ana really could do with one a few inches shorter. But I actually like the way it stretches her out to just this side of comfortable, forcing her onto the balls of her feet. It makes me feel a little bit better about having to dumb down so many aspects of this.

I skim my palms up the backs of her thighs and gently over her ass, rubbing slow circles into the delicate, pale flesh. I feel her muscles tense, though I'm not sure at this point if it's because she's turned on by my touch or anticipating something sinister. I feel the excitement in my core at the thought of the latter.

I trail a finger tip up her spine, then back down, all the way through the crack of her delicious ass until I sink it all the way inside of her. I watch a shiver run down her body, which I quickly correct her for.

"Still."

"Yes, Sir," her voice quavers, and now I'm sure she's anticipating something dark rather than just filled with lust. But she is wet, I note, swirling my finger around inside of her slowly, pulling it out and using it to very gently manipulate her clitoris.

"You look beautiful like this, Ana," I offer her a compliment, letting her know she is pleasing me. "Your lean figure was meant to be manipulated in bondage."

"Thank you, sir," she says, though it comes out with the inflection of a question, like she's not sure that was a compliment.

"You're welcome," I say firmly. I want to punish her for questioning me. I want to punish her for every movement, every sound she makes, for each of the half dozen small infractions she's made so far.

I want to spank her. I want to spank her, I want to flog her, I want to cane her. I want to put clamps on her nipples and on her pussy. I want to put a plug in that tight little asshole and I want to fuck her raw for hours.

But I _can't,_ and it irritates me. To be in this room and not be able to do whatever the fuck I want is supremely irritating

Normally I would have punished her for the things she's done wrong, worked her up in a frenzy of pain and pleasure before finally bestowing upon her the gift of my dick shoved so far up inside of her she could taste it in her throat...

Maybe I can work backwards.

Maybe I can fuck her first. Get her comfortable, relaxed, and half drunk on cock before I start to introduce a little pain. Lull her into a false sense of security before I amp things up. I want her confused and desperate, just like last night. She submitted to me because I made my demands while I had her delirious with pleasure and eager to come. I just need to get her to the same place now.

"I'm going to fuck you, Ana. And I want you still and quiet while I do." There's no way she's going to stay quiet. It'll give me reason to use the crop on her, when she inevitably cries out, and if all goes according to plan, I can manipulate her into accepting her punishment in exchange for an orgasm, the same way I got her to submit last night in order to come.

"Yes, Sir," she says breathlessly, her voice now tinged with more lust than concern. Perfect.

I step into place behind her, grabbing and spreading her ass apart so I can slide my dick against her, wetting it against her pussy. I bend over her, looming, letting her feel the weight of my frame on her, over her, so she can feel my size compared to hers, my strength, my dominance. My breath ghosts across the back of her neck, then I sink my teeth into where her shoulder meets the nape as I simultaneously line my cock up with her pussy and press my hips against her. I enter her slow and deep, pressing, digging into her roughly. She's tied so tightly she has no choice but to take it as I give it to her, which is perfect since I know she's a squirmer. I hear her breath come out in stilted pants and I know she's struggling to remain quiet already. She's so tight like this, with her legs pressed together. She feels perfect around me, so I enjoy it a moment longer, rocking my hips against her, twisting them, stretching her in various directions.

When I do pull out, it's quick, then I slam back into her, over and over, giving her no reprieve as I fuck her in a sudden and intense assault.

I watch as her body tenses and keens as much as the restraints will allow. She's wet and as time passes I can feel her pussy start to contract around me. She's turned on and loosening up, losing her inhibitions. I feel her muscles tighten, her whole body closer and closer until her impending orgasm is moments away... Then I stop. I trail my fingers over her skin, eliciting goosebumps and heightening her skin's sensitivity. I brush my fingers across her clit and she cries out my name.

" _Christian_."

I pull out.

She's panting heavily, and I can practically feel the desire and need radiating off of her.

"What did you call me?" I ask, my voice dark and ominous even to my own ears. I'm pissed, but also thrilled. This is an even better reason to punish her than just for making noise. This is _perfect_.

I watch her body freeze.

"I'm sorry. _Sir._ I meant, Sir."

"If you _meant_ Sir, then you should have _said_ Sir," I say as I finally reach for the crop. Fuck, am I going to enjoy this. This is it, this is the moment I've been fucking waiting for.

I trail it up the back of her thigh, over her pussy and up the crack of her ass. Her body tenses and there is a noticeable shift in her demeanor.

I swear I can feel my blood humming in my veins, I'm so excited. My chest is swelled up with excitement, my heart aching for this moment. I flick the crop back and strike it down on the roundest part of her ass. The thwack of the leather on her skin is like music to my ears. Music that is abruptly and devastatingly silenced the moment I hear her voice.

"Red!"

My chest instantly deflates. My blood feels like it stops cold in my veins. She _safeworded_? Over one little hit from a fucking crop on the fattest part of her ass? My jaw ticks as I try to quell my outward show of irritation.

"Do you need me to stop, Anastasia?" I ask, my voice even despite the rage building internally.

"Yes, Sir. I… I don't want you to hit me again, Sir," she says timidly.

I tighten my grip on the handle of the crop, wishing with every little part of me that I could unleash my fury on her pale little ass right now. I want it so badly, in fact, that I drop the crop for fear I might actually do it.

I can't fucking believe she is stopping already. We just got started! And barely! One hit, and it wasn't even particularly hard. It would have stung, as worst. It won't even welt.

"Do you still want me to fuck you?" I ask, hoping to salvage some piece of this, even if all that means is an orgasm.

"Y-yes, Sir," she says, but it does a little to curb my anger. At least I can still fuck her hard.

Saddling back up behind her, I give her no more build up, not this time around. I just plunge right into her. It's not like our normal sex. It's simply raw fucking. A means to an end, at this point of a disappointing trip to the playroom.

I allow her to come. I fuck her so hard and rough that she gets off twice, actually, before I finally let go and come deep inside of her. I pull out, watching her, admiring what little I have to admire, which is her still in bonage with my come leaking out of her pussy and down onto her thigh. It's something, but not nearly what I was expecting or hoping from this first session with her.

After a beat I being to unfasten her restraints. To her credit, she doesn't move until I tell her she may stand, and waits with her head down for further instruction.

I pile everything up on the chest of drawers, not feeling like explaining to her how to properly put them away. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. My irritation again heightens at the thought of this being it.

"You can use the bathroom just to the right of here to clean up," I tell her. "I have it stocked for easy access to this room."

"Yes, Sir," she nods, and I watch her walk out of the playroom and make a right toward the submissive bathroom.

I quickly loop the ropes the way I like them and hang them back on their hooks, along with the restraints and the crop. It was the easiest clean up this room has ever seen, I'm sure.

I grab my playroom jeans, slipping them on before heading out and back down to the master bathroom. I shower quickly, replaying the whole scene in my head step by step again, wondering what, if anything, I could have done to avoid her safewording immediately. I worry she won't want to go back in there with me, and if she won't this whole fucking thing will be ruined.

Still aggravated when I step out of the shower, I quickly dress and go to see what she's doing.

I find her sitting on the couch in the living room, and she stands as soon as she sees me, meeting me halfway across the room. There's an awkward silence, before she breaks it.

"So, um, do you have any plans for the rest of the day? Do you maybe want to…"

"I actually have some work I need to get done," I say, not feeling up to putting on the easy-going boyfriend face right now, sitting awkwardly with her for god knows how many hours, pretending like I'm not in a shit mood and she's not directly to blame for it. I just want to keep my mind off this playroom session and do something I actually have absolute control over. Work.

I can see the disappointment written all over her face, but she nods. "Oh, okay. Well, I can go then." She motions toward the foyer and I nod, moving in that direction to walk her toward the door. I think of how there is a very real chance that this is the beginning of the end for us. If she won't go back in the playroom, the whole plan will be shot to shit. There will be no point in keeping her around. The thought is not a pleasant one, so I dismiss it.

I place a hand on her back, guiding her out, but she comes to a sudden halt as we cross the threshold into the foyer. She turns suddenly, and she's right in front of me, her body brushing lightly against mine she's so close.

"I'm sorry, Christian," she says, and I can see by the look in her big blue eyes that she's serious, with an underlying hint of fear. "I'm sorry about… in there. It's just so new to me. Next time, I'll try harder. I promise."

I look down at her for a few long seconds, studying her. It's obvious that she feels bad, and that she genuinely wants to be better, to please me. The realization that not all is lost softens my cold demeanor some. Maybe there _is_ hope. As long as I can keep her trust, as long as I can be patient, even when I don't want to be. We can still do this. It's going to take more work than I initially thought, but since I've shown her my playroom, there's no going back now. Perhaps I can still salvage this with her.

I take her head gently in my hands and place a quick, placating kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, Ana. We can work on it, okay?"

She nods, still seeming worried, but slightly more at ease. Which is ultimately right where I want her right now. Always thinking about me, about what I want, about what she can do to please me. I want her always teetering precariously on the edge until every moment of her life is consumed by me.


	18. Chapter 18

**Ana POV**

Standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, I'm in full blown panic mode. I think I've blown it, I mean _really_ blown it. It's Wednesday and Christian hasn't even texted me once since our red room disaster. I don't know what happened. I was fine, it was actually kind of… _good._ So good in fact that I was just about to come when I slipped up.

I close my eyes as the memory of the crop flashes to the front of my mind. _Did it even hurt?_ I can't remember. That night, when I came home, I'd ran to this very bathroom every fifteen minutes to pull my shorts over my behind to look for any welts similar to what I'd seen on Leila, but there was _nothing_. Not even a mark. I can't remember what it felt like when he actually hit me, only that when he did, I wanted it to stop immediately. But now, I'm scared that I've fucked everything up, thrown away all the hard work I've put into this plan because I panicked over nothing.

I look down at the screen on my phone again, hoping for the billionth time that I've gotten something from Christian and just somehow missed it, but, of course, I haven't. I've been watching my phone like a hawk for days, there's no way I could miss anything, and as I see the evidence of his continued silence on my phone, I ignore the sting of disappointment I feel in my gut.

 _It's just because I'm not done yet._ _It's because I haven't gotten revenge for Leila._

I take a deep breath as I will my thoughts to pacify me and, as I reach up to brush a coat of mascara across my eyelashes, I hear what I think is the front door opening.

"Kate?" Elliot calls, and I immediately drop the mascara tube back into my bag and hurry from my room and down the hall.

"Is she here?" He asks when I round the corner into the living room.

"No, she's getting her nails done with her mom. She shouldn't be home for at least an hour."

"Oh, good," he says, giving me a cocky grin, but as he reaches out for me, I take a step back so that his fingers can't reach me.

"Did you drive here?" I check.

"Yeah, but I parked on the other side of the complex. Christian's at work so he won't show up here, but if Kate does, she won't see my car."

"Good. Come on."

I drag him back towards my room with a determined kind of urgency. This isn't a casual hook up, I need his help. I've decided that the only way I'm going to know if I can handle this submissive thing is to have my own trial run, away from Christian and away from the whips and chains hanging on the walls of his torture dungeon. I need to know if it's actually that I simply won't be able to take the pain, or if the fear I have of this lifestyle is all in my head. So today, I'm going to practice on Elliot.

Once we're in my room, I push him towards the bed and close the door behind us, taking a deep breath to prepare myself for what I'm about to ask. When I turn around he wags his eyebrows at me and tries to pull me into him, but, again, I put my hands up against his t-shirt and take a step back.

"What's the matter?" He asks, slightly irritated now.

"I need you to do something for me," I tell him.

"O-okay…"

"I need you to have sex with me."

He smiles. "What the fuck do you think I'm trying to do? Get your ass over here."

"No," I shake my head. "I mean, I need you to have sex with me, but I need you to be… _rough_."

"Rough, huh?" He replies, and his smile widens.

"Yes." I nod. "I want you to be really rough. But like, _really_ rough. Spank me, bite me, pull my hair, all of it. Don't hold back, okay? I don't want nice, I don't want playful. I need you to dominate me. You're in complete control. Don't be afraid to hurt me."

"Why?"

"Just… please?"

"Alright," he shrugs and when I nod, his smile broadens. "Get the fuck over here, you little freak."

I take another deep breath, bracing myself, and then walk the few steps that close the distance between us. The moment I'm within arm's reach of him, he grabs onto me and pulls me to him. His hands fist into my hair and he pulls my lips to his, tightening his fingers around the roots until I whimper, which he uses as an opportunity to thrust his tongue into my open mouth.

"That's it, baby," he says, sinking his teeth into my bottom lip. "Let me hear you moan." His hand sweeps up and hits me hard on the ass, managing to make contact with my skin beneath my shorts. I gasp and tense, but he grabs onto me, gripping hard to keep my muscles from clenching.

"God, you have such a hot fucking ass, Ana," he says. His hand disappears for half a second and then he slaps me again, making me cry out. "Get on your knees. You're going to suck me off until I'm hard enough to really fucking give it to you."

"Yes, Sir," I whisper, and he moans.

"Sir? I kinda like that." I glance up at him from beneath my downturned lashes, but there's no playfulness behind his blue eyes right now. He's playing his part perfectly. "What the fuck did I tell you, Anastasia? Get on you knees and suck my cock."

I lower myself onto the ground between his legs and then reach up to help him unbuckle his jeans. When he pulls his cock out for me, I take a second to once again admire the thickness, but he isn't having any of it. Once again, his hand fists into my hair and he pulls my mouth down onto him. I don't even have time to take a breath before he forces himself all the way into the back of my throat.

"Yeah, that's it," he groans. "Oh… fuck. Take this fucking cock, bitch." I pull back enough so that I can breathe, and then take him into my mouth again, clamping my lips tightly around him and swirling my tongue over the head of his erection in a smooth, clockwise movement. When deep throating him starts to take a toll on my gag reflex, I pull off of him and then wrap my hand around the base of his cock, moving my hand slowly over him while I flick my tongue against his head. He's moaning, and it only gets louder when I move my hand over the top of his dick and then pull down again so that he slips between my index and middle finger. I follow the movement by taking him in my mouth again, sinking all the way down until I reach my limit, and then begin bobbing up and down once more.

"Fuck, Ana. You are so good at sucking cock. God, I could watch my dick between your lips all fucking day."

"Mmm," I hum around him, not faltering in the rhythm I've set, and as I reach up as squeeze his balls with my free hand, he gasps and begins thrusting up into my mouth, pushing slightly farther than I can take, but not stopping when I gag around him.

"Come on baby, take it for me. That's it, good girl. Mmmm."

I can feel my face heat and tears welling in my eyes as he pumps in and out of me, grabbing onto my hair to control how I move in opposition to him. I let out a soft cry as he once again pushes a little too far into my throat and, just before I think I'm going to have to push myself off of him, he stops and pulls out himself.

I'm kneeling on the floor before him, blinking the moisture from my eyes, and he reaches down, pulls me to my feet, and grasps my entire jaw with his rough hand, forcing my mouth open so he can kiss me again.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?"

"Yes, Sir," I breathe back.

"Good, because I'm going to make you come like you've never fucking come before." His hands clamp down on my arms and he practically throws me onto the bed. I scramble up onto my hands and knees, but before I've even centered myself, he's pulling my hips back towards him. His fingers curl beneath the band on my shorts and panties and jerk them down to my knees. I arch my back as I feel my entire body flush with anticipation. I don't know if he's going to just thrust inside of me and start fucking me or if he's got something else in mind, but I'm dying for his touch.

A yelp escapes my lips as his hand comes down on my ass again, not once but again and again, each slap slightly harder than the last until he's rocking me forward with his hand. Some part of my brain is able to note that he's definitely hitting me harder than Christian hit me with that crop, but even though there is pain in each slap of his hand on my ass, the lingering sting only heightens the desire coursing through the rest of me. I'm shaking, my entire body vibrating as my need for release increases with every sharp bite of pain from his hand, so that when he does stop, and his fingers reach down and touch the wetness pooling between my legs, I let out a gasp so loud it's nearly a scream.

"That's it, baby. You like that don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," I reply.

"God you're so sexy like this. My little whore to do whatever I want to."

I whimper, trying to hold back the begging that I so desperately want to let bubble through my lips. But I'm playing the submissive right now. I'm not in control, so I don't get to beg, and my reticence is rewarded. Elliot falls onto his knees behind me and sinks his tongue into my pussy, swirling it around and then moving down to flick it against my clit. My breathing is loud, out of control, and the trembling in my body intensifies as I feel the heat rushing between my legs.

He pulls his mouth away and then slaps my pussy, hard, eliciting a loud, guttural, moan from deep inside of me, and then reaches up to grab onto my ass. His hands grip tightly to each of my cheeks, spreading me open so that he can bury his face into me.

"Oh my god," I cry when I feel his tongue against my ass, pushing hard, fighting to get inside of me.

"Oh, yeah, baby," he growls. He pulls back, spits on me, and then thrusts his tongue against me one more time until he's able to break through the tight muscles. I squirm against him, struggling to stay upright on my arms as I succumb to the feeling of his tongue dancing in and around my ass. It's intense and damn near fucking euphoric, but I don't know if it's enough to get me off. I want him to fuck me, I need him inside of me, but, again, I'm supposed to be practicing the role of a submissive. I don't ask, I only take what is given to me, and gladly.

"God, I love your ass," he says. "And I love hearing you moan for my tongue."

"It's so good," I whimper.

"My cock is better than my tongue," he says. "You want me to fuck this ass, baby?"

 _Submissive._

"I want to do whatever pleases you," I tell him. "Use me, Elliot. I'm yours."

"Damn fucking right you are," he says. I feel the depression of the bed and he climbs up onto his knees behind me and then feel the tip of his cock begin to tease my lips. It takes everything I have in me not to push back on him, to take what I want from him, but I refrain and he rewards me seconds later by thrusting hard inside of me.

"Fuck!" I scream as I immediately clamp around him, and he lets out a pleasure filled gasp that resonates in all of my reward centers.

"God your pussy is fucking magic, Ana," he growls as he pulls back and slams into me again. I moan and he picks up the pace, his hands digging into my hips as he pulls me back into him with each sharp thrust. He fucks me so hard, I can hear my ass slapping against his hips as loudly as I could hear his hand against me when he spanked me, and the sound only increases the urgency and tightness growing inside my belly, winding me tight and tighter until I feel like I'm going to explode.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," I whine, my fingers clawing into my sheets.

"You're getting so fucking tight," he hisses through his teeth. "Are you going to come for me you little whore?"

I can only respond in high, keening gasps that sound meek and desperate as I feel the crushing force of the orgasm that is just beyond my reach… _almost there._

"Answer me, you fucking slut. Are you going to come on this cock?"

"Y-y-es, S-Sir!" I pant. "Oh god, I'm s-s-so close."

"Give it up for me, baby. Show me what a good girl you are and come on this fucking cock."

His right hand releases my hip only to come down hard once again on my ass and the moment I feel the shock of pain wash through me, the dam breaks and I'm hit with the tidal wave force of my orgasm. It's so intense, I think I might have actually blacked out for a second because one minute I'm shaking, screaming for him, and the next I'm face down on the bed, panting into the sheets as the rolling pleasure of my orgasm dies down and Elliot's thrusts begin to slow.

"I'm not finished with you yet," he tells me, and, as he steps off the bed again and fully removes his jeans, I roll over and do the same, preparing myself for another round.

When I turn to look at him, he's pulling his shirt over his head and then reaching down from something in his jeans pocket. He pulls out a small bottle of lube and, because we aren't finished yet and so I haven't been relieved of my submissive role, I force myself not to roll my eyes and comment on how he clearly had an idea of what he wanted before he came over here. Instead, I take a deep breath, and stretch out my limbs to prepare for what's to come.

"Roll over," he commands as he climbs onto the bed behind me. I do and he reaches over to pull on my leg, hooking it over his so that he can pull my legs further apart.

"Take your shirt and bra off," he says. "I want to feel your tits while I'm in your ass."

I sit up slightly to pull my t-shirt over my head and then reach back to unclasp my bra. Just as I let it fall to the floor, I feel his index finger against my ass again, this time slick with lubricant. I clench as the cold liquid touches my skin, and he presses his chest into my back and then nuzzles my neck.

"Relax, baby. I'm going to make you feel so good." The warmth radiating off his body against mine is comforting, even though I'm already a hot sweaty mess, and it does actually allow me to relax and enjoy the feel of his finger against me, even when it sinks inside of me.

"That's it, Ana. God, I can't wait to be inside of you. Play with your clit." I do, and he adds a second finger, then a third, and pumps them in and out of me until I'm moaning again. His lips move over my shoulder, his tongue tasting the salt on my skin, and as I begin to lose myself once more, his fingers disappear and I feel his erection press against me.

"You ready?" He checks.

"Yes, Sir," I reply.

"Mmm, nice and slow then." I let out a harsh broken breath as he pushes into me and his cock stretches me much further than his fingers did. It's a little hard to take at first, but he's patient. He sinks into me centimeters at a time until at last, I've accepted all of him.

"Is that okay?" He asks.

"Yes, Sir," I whisper.

"Good, then I'm going to move." I whimper a little as he pulls back and then eases forward again. His rhythm is slow at first as he waits for me to adjust to him, but once I do, and my gasps turn to moans, he picks up the pace. His breathing is different, broken and hitched, punctuated by the occasional _fuck_ , and it helps me let go of any reservation I still had about this and lose myself in the pleasure, in _his_ pleasure, because that's my main objective right now. Pleasing _him._

"Fuck, you're so god damn tight," he hisses in my ear. "I'm not going to last long, baby. Jesus! You feel so fucking good."

"Oh god, yes," I keen. His hands move from my hips up to my breasts, and he pinches my nippes tightly between his index and middle fingers while he kneads the rest of my flesh with his palms. I'm writhing against him, panting again, until his hitched breathing starts to come more urgently.

"Fuck!" He hisses. "Fuck, I'm gonna come. Where do you want it, baby? In your ass or on your tits?"

"I want you to do what you want to me," I moan. He growls and then moves his hands down to my hips again, using the leverage to thrust harder a few more times until he's just about to explode.

"Ah, here it comes!" He pulls out of me and moves up onto his knees, throwing my leg over his head as he strokes his cock over the top of me. His face tightens, his lips forming a thin line, until he lets go and hot come shoots out over my breasts and my stomach. I tilt my head back and arch my back toward him until his hand stops and he collapses on the bed next to me.

"I fucking love you," he says through the deep, panting breaths that rock his body.

"Yeah," I laugh, rolling my eyes as I move into a more comfortable position next to him. Once his breathing is under control he gets up and moves into my bathroom, and while I wait for him to return, I run through everything that just happened in my head.

It was rough, just like I asked. He was dominant and there was pain, but it didn't frighten me. In fact, it kind of turned me on. That has to mean that the fear I have of the pain when I have sex with Christian is in my head. Especially because he's been been rough with me before, he's spanked me before, harder than he did with that crop, and I loved every second of it. Maybe it's the crop then, or the whole red room schtick. That's the fear I need to conquer, but in the meantime, I should be able to convince myself to take a little pain.

Elliot comes out of the bathroom with a towel in hand, which he tosses to me, and I clean myself off as he climbs into the bed again. Once I'm finished and I've discarded the towel onto the floor, he rolls over the top of me once more and lowers his lips to mine.

This kiss is so different than everything that just occurred between us. It's soft and warm, tender, and I moan slightly as I kiss him back.

"You're really kind of amazing, you know that?" He whispers, and I smile up at him.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"No, but really… Ana, I think that I'm fal..."

"Ana?" A voice calls from the living room, and my entire body seized with panic as I realize that it's Kate.

"Fuck," I hiss, shoving Elliot off of me, scrambling out of bed, and hurrying for my dresser for fresh clothes. Elliot looks at me as though he isn't sure what he's supposed to do.

 _Get in the bathroom and close the fucking door._ I mouth at him, and he gathers his clothes and runs for the bathroom, easing the door closed just as Kate knocks on my bedroom door.

"One second, I'm getting dressed," I tell her, and then quickly pull some clothes out of my drawer. Once I'm dressed, I take the hair tie off the nightstand and throw my hair up in a topknot as I hurry to answer the door, but, when I do, she isn't there.

"Kate?" I check, and then step out into the hallway. I hear the ice machine on the refrigerator so I make my way out to the kitchen and once I come around the corner, she gives me a weird look.

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing," I shake my head. "I was going to take a shower but then I got on my phone and kind of went down the rabbit hole on YouTube. What's up?"

"I just wanted to know when you planned on going to see Leila tomorrow."

"Uh… I don't know. Did we have plans to go do that?"

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Well, she's going home tomorrow so I just assumed…"

"What?" I shriek. "She's going home? I just talked to her a few days ago, she didn't tell me that! Why did she tell you and not me?"

"Well, probably because she likes me more than she likes you," she replies. I'm slightly discombobulated as Kate makes her way around the kitchen island with her cup of water towards her bedroom, but as she brushes past me I feel a new wave of panic rising inside of me.

"Kate!" I call out to stop her. She turns around but gives me an irritated look, like I'm disrupting something important.

"What?"

"Please… please don't say anything to her about Christian."

"Why?"

"Because…" I hesitate, biting my lip as I try and think up a lie. "She was in there because some guy broke her heart and threw her away. It nearly destroyed her. I just don't want to bring up relationships right away or make her think I'm throwing my boyfriend in her face. I just think it's best we take it slow."

She raises an eyebrow at me, like she doesn't buy my logic, so I swallow whatever last bit of pride I have left and give her what I know she really wants.

"Please, Kate?" I beg. "Look, I know things haven't been great between us and I'm sorry. I know I've been a bitch to you, I don't know why. I guess I'm just jealous, or scared… I've been thrown into this whole new world with Christian and it feels like I don't belong and I'm afraid that if he sees that, he's going to leave me and I really, _really_ like him. I look at you and see how comfortable you are, how perfectly you fit where I don't and it's hard for me. I haven't been a good friend. I'm sorry that I've been fighting with you, I'm sorry I wasn't there for your with all that stuff you went through with Elliot, and I'm sorry that I've taken your friendship for granted. But please, Katie, please do this this for me."

She purses her lips as she considers what I've said to her, and to my surprise, when her mouth goes back to normal, her bottom lip begins to quiver.

"Oh, Ana," She says, her voice breaking, and she begins to sob. "Everything is such a mess, I don't know how all of this happened. Did you know that Elliot tried to cheat on me again? With Addison Schultz."

"Oh," I hesitate, and she starts crying harder.

"I caught her in his room on New Year's Eve. I've known her since I was _born_ and she… she was willing to betray me, to throw away a lifetime of friendship for _Elliot fucking Grey_. I thought she and I were supposed to be best friends. What's so bad about me, Ana? I know I'm not always nice, but why does everyone in my life want to destroy me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you, Kate…"

"Elliot knows how I feel about him. I am in love with him, I can't live without him, but that's not enough for him to be faithful to me even though he knows how much it kills me when he cheats on me. Addison doesn't care. Nobody cares. I really thought I could trust her, but I can't. I can't trust anybody. You have no idea how hard it is to live in this world, to be surrounded by the horrible people who are constantly trying to cut you down and take your place. It's hardened me, it's turned me into somebody I don't like. It's turned me into one of them and now I'm just doing to you what they've done to me. I don't want it to be like this. I need you in my life, Ana. I don't know why I push you away so much. Lately, it feels like we aren't even friends, and I hate it. I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss the way it was when we were in college and it was just me and you and Leila. With you guys, I don't have to be _Katherine Kavanagh_ , I just get to be Kate, and I love that. I love _you_. Can't we just go back to the way it was before?"

"Of course we can. I miss that too," I tell her honestly. "I want that back too."

"Okay," she agrees, her eyes welling with tears. "Then, truce?"

"Truce." I agree. She steps forward and wraps her arms around me, and when she pulls away she's beaming.

"Tomorrow is going to be the start of a new beginning for us, okay? We're going to get our Leila back and then we're never going to let this go ever again."

"Never."

"I was um… I was going to call Elliot, but do you want to go to lunch instead?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, I'd really like that."

"Great. Then, go take a shower and I'm going to go check on some things. We'll leave in an hour?"

"Sounds great," I tell her.

"Thank you for being the one person in my life I can really trust, Ana. Thank you for being a _real_ friend." She hugs me again and then turns to her bedroom, and I stare after her until her door closes, feeling like she's left me off balance. I never knew she felt that way. It's not like I didn't know that deep down inside she was a good person. Every now and then her carefully constructed bitch mask slips and she reveals a hint of the heart she actually has. That's what makes me love her, what allows me to deal with the amount of bullshit that comes with being friends with her. But to hear her sadness and her insecurity… to hear how much she values her friendship with me and Leila… I had no idea. And now, as I walk back to my own bedroom, I feel slightly nauseated.

"That was beautiful," Elliot says in a mocking tone once I've closed myself back in my room. "She almost had me feeling sorry for her."

"I need to take a shower," I say disgustedly, shaking my head slightly as I move towards my bathroom, but before I get there, Elliot comes up to me from behind and wraps his arms around my middle.

"No, seriously. I'm so glad the two of you have made up. Maybe we can have that threesome after all," he jokes, and my skin immediately heats as anger flashes through me.

"Don't touch me," I snap, pulling his arms away from me and turning to glare at him.

"What do you-"

"What are we doing, Elliot?" I ask him. "You're dating my best friend."

"Yeah, but only so I can be close to you without my brother getting in the way."

"Stop! Don't you care about her at all?"

"Sure. In a… I would pull her out of the way if she were going to be hit by a bus kind of way."

"But not in a way where you'd feel any kind of remorse over fucking her best friend in her own apartment?"

"Hey, you're the one who called me, remember? This is all your plan. Are you telling me that that's all out the window now just because Kate being a bitch is finally catching up with her? You're just going to forget everything that you've done, that _we've_ done, and let Christian get away with what he did to Leila? You don't care about any of that anymore? She almost died, Ana. _TWICE._ "

"Yeah, I still care..." I hesitate.

"Then don't worry about Kate. Don't worry about anything except what you have to do to make this right for her and to make Christian pay. Don't worry about anything but this..."

I bite down on my lip as he moves towards me, reaching out like he's going to put his hands on my waist, but I hold my arm out and take a step backwards.

"I just don't feel right about you and me after talking to Kate. I can't do this with you anymore."

"You're not taking anything away from Kate, I promise you. I'll go break up with her right now if that's what you want."

"No!" I exclaim. "No, that'll devastate her. That's not what I want."

"Then what do you want, Ana?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "I just can't do this with you anymore. I can't be the reason you cheat. Just… just wait until Kate and I leave and then go… okay? I'm sorry."

His jaw clenches and he shakes his head with irritation. "Fine. I'll just have to wait until Kate shows you who she really is and hurts you again. When she does, give me call."

I press my lips together as he turns and heads back into my room, and then step into the hot water cascading down from the shower. Tears begin to prick my eyes as I really feel the guilt for what I've done hit me full force, but since I can't take it back, I promise myself that I'll continue my plan without Elliot, without hurting Kate, and then start to scrub my body, as if washing the lingering scent of Elliot from my skin will somehow wash away my betrayal.

Kate and I spend the entire afternoon together and it's one of the best days we've spent together since college. She's… I don't know, lighter somehow, like she's let down her guard or something, and during lunch and the impromptu shopping trip we take afterwards, she's able to laugh and be goofy and _really_ talk to me. I feel almost radiantly happy as I watch and laugh at her strutting through a department store like she's on a catwalk, stopping to pose at anyone who gives her a sideways glance, but that all come crashing down as I see the man in the suit walking purposefully towards me.

It's Taylor. Christian's goon.

"Miss Steele," he greets me curtly. "If you'll come with me."

"What?"

"Mr. Grey would like to see you. Immediately."

An ice cold shiver runs up my spine as I think about the implication behind Taylor's words. It's one o'clock on a Wednesday, which means Christian is still at work. He's very adamant that he's too busy to see me during the week, even too busy to talk to me on the phone sometimes, so if he took the initiative to not only see me on a weekday, but to send Taylor down here to summon me, something must be wrong, and there's only one thing I can think of that could get this kind of reaction.

 _He knows about Elliot._

"I-I'm here with a friend," I reply, my voice shaking, but he stares at me impassively, as if that's all very trivial to him. I take a breath and nod. "Okay, just, let me say goodbye."

Kate has returned to the dressing rooms to change back into her own clothes, so I make my way back there, trying to regulate my breathing and stop myself from thinking about what I'm about to face when Taylor takes me to see Christian. If he breaks up with me, everything I've done will be for nothing, and I'll have failed Leila _again._

"You liked this one, right?" Kate asks, holding up a cream colored sweater as she steps out of the dressing room. "I think I'm going to get it."

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, that one is great."

"What's the matter?" She asks, clearly picking up on my hesitance and I have to swallow the growing lump in my throat before I answer.

"I have to go…"

"Go where?"

"Christian's um… bodyguard or whatever is here. He said that Christian needs me to go and meet him."

"Right now? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, I think so. I don't know. But you can take my car home…" I reach into my car and pull out the key fob that goes to my brand new, sleek red Audi, the car I'm probably about to forfeit in a matter of hours.

"Okay," she says, the disappointment in her clear. "But, you'll be home tonight, right? We're still going to see Leila tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I agree. "I'll text you when I know what's going on." She nods and then hugs me again, smiling and thanking me for giving her the car to take home, and as she turns back towards the dressing room to collect the rejects she's left hanging inside, I take a deep breath and then make my way back out to Taylor.

It's a long, silent, and tense drive back into Seattle. The panic pulsating in my chest with every heartbeat seems to become more and more pronounced the closer we get, and when Taylor comes to a stop along the curb of the gargantuan steel and glass building with _Grey House_ mounted over the door, I feel as though I may vomit. I have no idea what he's going to say, what he's going to do, but if I'm right, and he knows about Elliot, I know what he's capable of, and the memories I have of his brutal punishment for Leila have my entire body shaking with fear.

Taylor doesn't escort me into the building, so I think briefly of making a run for it, but he stays parked on the curb and watches me until I step through the front doors. From here I see security cameras blinking from each of the corners of the lobby and, even though it's highly unlikely, my mind imagines Christian sitting behind a monitor upstairs, watching every step I take. There's no escape. Even without Taylor ghosting along behind me, there's no way I could run… the man knows where I live. I'm here, and I'm going to have to face him.

 _I've made my bed, now I have to lay in it._

"Excuse me," I say to the receptionist as the shiny stone desk near the main entrance. "I'm… I'm here to see Christian Grey."

"Do you have an appointment?" She asks, almost irritably.

"Umm… no. I mean, sort of. I don't, but he's expecting me."

"What's your name?"

"Anastasia Steele." She holds up a finger to tell me to wait a moment and then picks up the phone receiver off her desk. I take a step away from the desk while she makes her phone call, wondering if any of the people in expensive looking suits milling through the lobby notice me standing here trembling. If they do, no one stops to say anything or even expresses any outward sign of concern. There have to be at least fifty people in my line of sight, but watching them hurry past with their stoic faces staring ahead or down at the screen of their phones makes me feel completely and utterly alone.

"Miss Steele?" The receptionist says to get my attention, and I turn my worried glance back to her. "You can go up. Mr. Grey's office is on the 31st floor, and you're going to need one of these."

I take the guest badge she hands me, waiting for her to ask me to sign into something, but she doesn't. The moment I've taken the plastic card from her, she turns back to her computer and begins typing.

"Thank you," I say quietly, and then turn towards the elevators. I'm able to slip in with a group of people, but as they call out the numbers for their floors, I notice I'm the only one destined for the highest level.

"31, please," I say to the man standing closest to the panel by the door, and he gives me a curious glance before reaching out for the button and pressing it down. The doors close and the elevator hums to life, whisking us up only two floors before coming to a stop and releasing three people. I have to wait through six more stops, my nerves growing stronger the more people step out of the elevator, and after the last person steps out on the 26th floor, I feel as though my heart has jumped into my throat.

The top floor is almost an exact mirror of the main lobby below. I swipe the guest badge against a security door a few steps away from the elevators and push my way into the same open concept lobby, filled with the same modern looking furniture, posed in front of the same bold lettering on the wall that spells out GREY Enterprise Holdings. Even the platinum blonde woman sitting behind the desk feels like a photocopy of the receptionist who helped me downstairs. When she looks up at me though, I can tell that she's expecting me.

"Miss Steele?" She checks.

"Yes," I squeak, then clear my throat and try again. "Yes."

"Mr. Grey is expecting you," she says. "Right this way please."

I wait for her to come around her desk and then follow her down a long hallway to a pair of double wooden doors with a long silver handle. She pauses at the door, waving me forward and, as I try my best to give her a grateful smile, I mentally prepare myself for what I know is waiting on the other side.

 _At least we're not at Escala and he doesn't have the playroom at his disposal._ I think, trying to comfort myself, and then reach out to push open the door.

"I don't care about their standard timelines," Christian shouts into his phone, glancing up only when he hears his door close behind me. His expression doesn't change when he sees me and it makes my muscles tense. "I want it sorted out by the end of business today," he continues. "If that's not possible then you can tell them the deal's off."

He slams the phone down and then sits back in his chair, staring at me. I don't move, I don't even breathe. I simply stand there, waiting for him to make the first move.

"Come here," he says at last, his voice low and even. I press my lips together, hoping that will hide the quiver that is so pronounced it nearly has my teeth chattering, and then make my way across the expansive space between the door and his desk.

It feels as though I'm walking to the gallows.

He turns in his chair as I approach so I know he expects me to come around to him, but as I do, I keep pressed against the desk, clinging to it for support as I feel my knees go weak.

"Hi," I breathe.

"Hi," he replies. We stare at each other for a long second and then he reaches out, wraps his fingers behind my neck, and slowly pulls my lips down to his. It takes me a moment to react to the kiss, to feel the emotion behind it. I'm searching for anger or tension in his lips, domination even, but it isn't there. It's soft, sentimental, almost longing, but I don't relax until he pulls away, rests his forehead against mine, and speaks.

"Thank you for coming down here," he whispers.

"What's the matter?" I check.

"Nothing. I just… I thought I should apologize for what happened on Saturday. I misread the situation and I pushed you into this too soon. You weren't ready and I'm sorry I didn't see that. I'm supposed to always be aware of you and how you're feeling. I wasn't that day, and I apologize."

"Oh…" I say awkwardly, his apology taking me completely off guard.

"And I wanted to thank you for trying. You could have run from me the moment I took you into that room, but you didn't. You tried and that means a great deal to me. I know better now what your reservations and limits are, and if you're willing to try again, I promise I won't push you like I did last weekend."

Relief washes over me. He doesn't know. I was sure I'd pissed Elliot off this afternoon so he'd let something slip to Christian, or that Taylor had somehow caught on, but neither seems to be the case. He's just trying to apologize, and now that I'm sure I'm in the clear and am not about to face the same fate as Leila did, I'm quick to forgive him.

"Of course I'm willing to try again," I promise. "I just didn't know what to expect and I was nervous before. If this is what you want, then I want to do it with you. I want to be this for you. I want to try again too."

"Good," he says, a mixture of his own relief and satisfaction coloring his expression. "I was afraid I might have scared you off."

"Never," I promise, and then lean down and kiss him again. He moans slightly against my mouth and his tongue plays softly along my bottom lip.

"Have dinner with me tonight," he says. "Let me take you somewhere."

"I'd love to," I agree.

"Then I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Seven it is," I smile. "I'll see you tonight, Mr. Grey."

"Tonight," he agrees, and he presses his lips softly into mine and then pulls me from his desk so that I can leave. The moment I'm turned away from him, I take a deep breath to calm my heart, which is still beating furiously in my chest, and then scurry away from his desk. When I get to the door, I pause, turn back to him, and smile before pushing my way back out into the hallway outside his office.

Nothing has been lost. He doesn't know, and him calling me here just to apologize and to ask me out again means I'm definitely getting somewhere. I'm succeeding, and soon, Leila is going to watch him face the same crumbling agony he forced on her.

 _Look out, Christian Grey. I'm coming for you._


	19. Chapter 19

"Hey," Christian's voice whispers through the dark peace of sleep. I slowly pry my eyes open and blink through the sunlight pouring in through his bedroom windows until he comes into focus. He's dressed in a suit, the dark gray tie looped through his crisp white shirt perfectly matching his eyes. "I'm about to leave for work. Do you need anything?"

"Nothing you can give me if you're about to leave," I reply.

"Mmm, then perhaps you should still be in my bed when I come home," he suggests. "I'll give you whatever you want."

"Oh really?"

"Well, whatever I want, but believe me, you'll want it too." I moan at the husky promise in his voice and then sit up in bed to kiss him. His hand twists in my hair, pulling my head back to give him easy access to my neck, and the fingers of his free hand brush up my side to find the nipple on my naked breast. I gasp, and push my body towards him as the sharp, bite of pain of my nipple clamped tightly between the knuckle of his index finger and the pad of his thumb has me instantly needy for him.

"You like that?" he whispers, his tongue dragging softly over my earlobe and sending pleasure filled shivers down my body.

"Yes," I breathe back.

"What about this?" He reaches down between my legs and begins to tease my clitoris for a moment, until his finger slides inside of me. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I grind down on him, pressing my clit into the palm of his hand, and then he shifts so he can add a second finger and thrusts them both into me harder. "Should I make you come before I go?"

"Yes. Please."

"Then lay back," he commands, and I obey without hesitation. His hands press on the insides of my thighs as he spreads my legs and opens me up to him. I wait impatiently as his fingers trace soft lines over my skin until I eventually feel his breath against my lips.

"Beg for me," he whispers, his hot breath washing over me, intensifying the promise of what's to come.

"Please, Christian."

He kisses me, softly at first. Just a gentle brush of his lips against my clitoris again and again until I feel the hot warmth of his tongue. I groan and arch my back, pushing myself deeper into the pillows as his mouth really begins to move. I can feel the vibrations from his low, satisfied hum, the pressure from his tongue rolling over me again and again, and the oh so sweet suction of his lips. It's like this man has a direct line to my thoughts and my desires. He reacts to commands I don't have time to make, changes his cadence or the pressure of his mouth the moment the need pops into my mind. He pushes me, forces me up the steep climb to release, guiding me at his pace until he allows me to unravel.

"Oh fuck, Christian, I'm close," I whimper.

"Mmm," he hums, the sound once again electrifying my already over sensitized clitoris. "Then give it to me. Come for me, Ana."

I pant and begin clawing at the sheets, fighting his grip on my hips as I try to push myself further into his face, but with one final swirl of his tongue, the dam suddenly breaks and I flood his mouth with my release.

He groans as I convulse around his tongue and scream through the silence of his bedroom. My entire body feels alive, hot with lust and desire that can't be sated by only his mouth, and when my orgasm finally dies down and leaves me a panting mess tangled amongst his expensive sheets, I'm no longer ready to lose him to the work day.

"Stay," I beg. "Let me return the favor."

"Tonight," he says, swiping his tongue across his lip to clean away the last of my release. "Come back tonight and I will fuck you until you physically can't come anymore."

I swallow and nod, so he leans down again, grabs me by the nape of the hair, and kisses me forcefully, tugging at my bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away.

"Think of me today," he says. "I'll be thinking of you."

"I will," I promise, and he kisses me one last time, gives me a sly, sideways smile, and turns to leave the room. I take a few deep breaths, trying to clear the sex fueled haze his very presence fogs my mind with, and then reach for my phone. There's a text from Kate.

 **Don't be mad, but Elliot spent the night last night and we had the most amazing night… he wants to spend the day with me. Rain check with Leila?- Kate**

Leila? _Shit!_ Between my date with Christian and the resulting night in his bed, I completely forgot she's being released from the hospital and coming home today. Now, the high that lingers from the orgasm Christian left me with feels heavy, burdensome… and dirty.

I scramble out of the bed as quickly as possible to jump in the shower and wash away the smell of his skin from mine, but as I open the bottle of bodywash sitting on the tile edge of the shower, that very smell suddenly floods my nostrils. Everything in here is his, everything smells like him, so I settle for an extra dab of shampoo to scrub my body with, then jump out of the shower and rub my skin practically raw with a towel.

As I sneak out of the apartment and back into the elevator, I try hard to swallow the guilt that creeps up my throat when I turn to look at the foyer through the closing elevator doors and feel a strong lance of anticipation for what will be waiting for me here tonight.

I need to stop spending so many nights here. Being around him so much is blurring the lines between the lies and reality. His skills in the bedroom make me forget my purpose, what I'm here to do, and now that Leila is out of the hospital, I'm running out of time to do what needs to be done.

When I pull up in front of Leila's house later that afternoon, I take a moment in my car to prepare myself for what I may be about to walk into. I haven't seen Leila since the pill episode in the hospital, her intensive treatment following that mishap meant that her visits had been restricted to only family and I had accepted that willingly. That day had to have been her absolute lowest point and it really hadn't been that long ago. I'm almost skeptical that she should be out now, and scared that not having her under the 24 hour watch of a full nursing staff is putting her life at risk again, but the doctors know more about this kind of recovery than I do, so I suppose I have to trust their judgement. Still, when I finally get out of my car and make my way up the walk, I'm fully prepared to see the same hollow version of my best friend that I saw crumpled on the bathroom floor that day.

I knock and wait, listening for any indication of what's going on inside, but when Kathy answers the door, she smiles broadly down at me.

"Ana, how great to see you again dear."

"Hi, Kathy. How's she doing?"

"Good, she's been waiting all morning for you. Come on in, she's back in her room."

"Thank you." I step past her into the living room where I spent more Christmases than I ever did in my own house, and then up the hallway towards Leila's room. The door to the room I spent almost all of high school in is closed, the same as Leila's, and as I come to a stop outside her bedroom door, I take one last minute to center myself and then raise my fist to rap gently against the wood.

It takes all of two seconds before the door swings open and then I'm hit with the wrecking ball like force of my best friend. She practically leaps on top of me, squealing as she wraps her arms tightly around me.

"Ana! Ana! Ana!" she chirps. "Oh my god, I've missed you!"

"Hey, Lee-Lee," I reply cautiously. She pulls away from me, beaming as she looks at me, and it's suddenly as if what feels like 10 years of stress and anguish are lifted off my shoulders. She looks so… _healthy_. No longer is her face pale, gaunt, and marred with deep purple circles beneath her eyes. She looks well rested, her skin is glowing, and most importantly, she looks happy. And not just to see me either. She looks like herself again.

"Come, come, dear," she says, in the weird, horrible british accent she sometimes takes on when she's feeling particularly goofy. "We have much to catch up on."

"Yeah, we do," I laugh as I plop down on her bed. "What's been going on? How are you?"

"I'm really good," she smiles. "I feel like myself again. I was in a dark place for so long, it's like I couldn't see anything past it."

"I know, babe," I reply.

"I wanted to apologize to you… I really don't remember much about that day that you came to visit me, I barely even remember you being there. Most of what happened, they told me afterwards, and I wish that you hadn't been there for that. I keep thinking about what it would be like if I found you like that, if I had been the one in your position, and it kills me. I'm so sorry, Ana."

"No, Leila, don't apologize. You were sick, and you were hurt. I know that, I know how bad this was for you. I'm just happy you're doing better now. I was afraid I was going to lose my best friend."

She smiles and shakes her head. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Steele. And I have learned my lesson. Boys are for orgasms. The only love that I need is right here in front of me." I smile as she leans forward to hug me

"I love you too, Lee."

"Good, then I want you to help me with something because you are the only person who can."

"What?" I ask, wearily.

She gets off the bed, moves to her closet, pulls out a shoebox inside that is buried under a mountain of mess, and brings it over to me.

"This is everything I have left of Christian Grey, and you're going to help destroy all of it and exorcise him from my life."

"Exorcise him?"

"Like a demon," she says darkly, and then shrugs. "I saw it on Friends."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they burned all of that stuff and ended up having to call the fire department…"

"Well, we're not going to _burn_ it…" she says. "We're just going to throw it away or, maybe take it out back and beat it with a hammer."

"Let's start with the trash," I suggest. She nods and then lifts the lid to the box.

"Alright, this…" she begins, reaching into the box and withdrawing a stack of papers. "Is his stupid contract."

She yanks it in half out of the staple and hands me the remaining stack of papers in her right hand. I quickly glance down at the papers in my hand as she begins shredding the ones she's kept for herself.

 _Which of the following are types of pain/punishment/discipline are acceptable to the Submissive?_

 _Spanking_

 _Paddling_

 _Whipping_

 _Caning_

 _Biting_

 _Nipple Clamps_

There are a few others listed, but genital clamps, ice, and hot wax have been stricken out. Reading the list brings me back to the night she came to my apartment, the night I'd decided I was going to do everything I could to make him pay for what he'd done to her. I'd suspected, as I glanced over the deep red lashes in her skin, that he'd beat her with a whip, but reading this shows that if that were the case, she'd already consented to it…

No, no, there's a difference between the safe use of whips and paddles, and there's abuse. He'd hurt her. He'd broken her.

 _But she could have safe worded…_

"Ana?" Leila asks, and I inhale sharply as I look up at her, smile, and then begin tearing the paper in my hands.

"Garbage," she sneers, tossing the bits of shredded paper into a trash bag next to her bed, and then reaches in the box again. "This is the wrapper to the condom he used the first time he fucked me." I watch her rip the gold foil in half, the same gold foil I became oh so familiar with in the beginning of our relationship, and looking at her with it in her hand actually makes my gut clench with disgust.

I don't like the physical proof that she and I have been with the same man...

"What else? What else?" she says, in an almost sing-song kind of tone as she starts digging in the box again.

"You know what, I don't know if this is really helping, Leila," I interrupt, and she gives me a weird look. "I mean, going through everything. Let's just throw it all away and be done with it. Clean slate, you know?"

"Clean slate," she repeats. "You're right. I shouldn't spend any more time mourning these things than he spent getting rid of me. Fucking prick."

"Right," I agree. She smiles, then picks up the entire box and dumps it into the trash bag. I watch her pulling at the plastic strips to tie the bag closed and when she carelessly tosses it back to the floor, she turns back to me and beams.

"You're right. That does feel better."

"Good." I smile back.

"We need to get out tonight," she says, leaping up from her bed and pacing the room excitedly, the way I've watched her do a thousand times before. "We need to go out, just you, me, and Kate, get some drinks, dance, and just have a really good time. I need that, fun with my girls. It feels like I haven't cut loose in so fucking long."

"Tonight?" I ask hesitantly, and she furrows her brow.

"Yeah, why? Got a hot date or something?"

"No," I say, too quickly. "No, just… plans. And I think Kate and Elliot are probably going to spend the night together again. He's been stalking our apartment the last few days like a ghost."

"Elliot?" Leila asks, wrinkling her nose with disgust. "That's still going on?"

"Yep. She's fishing for a ring," I tell her. Leila rolls her eyes.

"Why? God, the only thing worse than Elliot Grey is his fucking brother. Ugh, that entire family is like a plague on Seattle."

"Mmm."

"Well, I'm going apartment hunting later in the week," she says. "My boss told me he kept my job for me and my parents are giving me some money for a deposit. Maybe the three of us could go look together and then go out for the weekend. Ooh, I'll see if there's someone good playing at the Triple Door this weekend. Maybe we can groupie onto the band and go home with a hot bass player or something."

"Sure, sounds good," I shrug.

She smiles and then hugs me again before grabbing me by the hand and dragging me outside to take her somewhere in town so that she can just walk around for a while. When we make it through the front door though, and she turns to walk across the lawn, she freezes mid-step as if she's suddenly run into a wall or something.

"Ana… where did you get that car?" she asks.

"Oh," I hesitate, feeling a sharp pang of panic as I look at the cherry red Audi sitting on the curb. "Uh… Carla and richy-rich actually tried to be parents over Christmas. I got a car and some extra money for rent. It was short lived though, I haven't heard from her in over a month."

"Oh," she replies, but she continues to eye the car with a look of disdain. "Well, at least you got something out of it, I guess. Fuck your mom, right? You haven't needed her in your life before, you don't need her now."

"Right." I laugh nervously as she glances over the smooth lines of the frame the closer we get, examining it as though she's looking for some kind of proof it belongs to Christian.

"So, the mall?" I suggest, trying to distract her, and, thankfully, it works. She turns back to me, and nods excitedly.

Walking around the mall with Leila feels like old times again. I just can't get passed how normal she seems. Not once does she bring up her suicide attempt or the months she spend in a locked psych ward. She just asks about my life, what's changed in the past few months, and then takes me to the food court to check out guys. I watch her shamelessly corner a meathead looking guy coming out of the sunglasses store next to the Cinnabon and flirt with him for 10 or so minutes before successfully getting his number. Once her mission is complete, she saunters back to me with a superior kind of smile on her face.

"Well, you might be lame and won't come out with me tonight, but I've found a date of my own."

"Good lord," I reply with a laugh. "Just no dick snaps, okay?"

"No promises," she giggles, and then reaches forward to take a drink of my Diet Coke.

I feel really good when I drop her off at her house a few hours later so that she can make her therapy appointment with her mom. All I've wanted since this horrible ordeal started was to get my best friend back, to see her laugh and smile the way she used to. She's always been so full of life and adventure and watching her crumble the way she did felt like I was watching something steady and constant in my life being ripped away from me. I was terrified I was going to lose her forever, but she's just proving to everyone how strong she really is. She's resilient, and the amount of admiration I feel for that strength is unquantifiable.

Later though, when I make the drive back to Escala, the guilt I felt this morning returns tenfold. It was easy, when I was watching her laying unconscious in a hospital bed or rambling incoherently on the bathroom floor of the psychiatric facility, to justify my plans for Christian, to fuel my desire to follow through even. Seeing her the way she is now, happy, healthy, back to normal, makes me wonder what I'm doing this for. Why I'm putting myself through this, why I'm going behind everyone's back, hurting people that don't deserve to be hurt all to justify revenge that doesn't seem necessary anymore?

Especially since I'm having a hard time separating my plan from the real feelings that I'm developing for Christian. I shake my head as I step out of the car and begin walking to the elevator. Some of the things I've justified to myself in the past few weeks, I simply can't anymore. When he invited me to Christmas, I'd taken pride in that. It felt good that he wanted me to be there. When he opened up to me and took me into the red room for the first time, I'd found satisfaction outside of my scheme that he'd trusted me enough to share that part of his life with me. And when Taylor took me to his office, and I thought Christian had found out about Elliot and I, I was just as distraught over the idea of him breaking up with me than I was with losing the ability to get revenge against him. Even now, thinking Elliot's name makes me want to throw up, and it's more than just the betrayal of Kate's trust that has me fighting my gag reflex.

It's him.

It's Christian.

I guess you really can't have great sex with someone, pretend to be falling in love with them, without actually…

I shake my head again. No, I'm not _in love_ with him. I _can't_ be in love with him. He may not have been able to break Leila, but he's still a monster. He still _hurt_ her, and he still has a room full of whips and chains that one day, he may use to hurt me. I don't want anything to do with that so, as the elevator doors open and I step into his apartment, I make the decision that I need to be done. No more revenge, no more pretending. I need to stop what I'm doing and return to the life I had before I'd ever even heard of Christian Grey.

I take a breath to strengthen my resolve as I sit on the couch to wait for Christian to return home, a gesture I repeat when I hear the elevator door open and Christian walks into the room with Taylor.

"Leave us," Christian says, his eyes narrowing in on me, and while Taylor turns to disappear into his own office, I slowly rise off the couch.

"Christian, we need to talk…" I begin, but before I can say anymore, he's pacing quickly across the living room, placing his hands on either side of my face, and bringing his lips to mine in a kiss so forceful, it knocks me back several paces.

I gasp in surprise and his tongue moves past my lips, entwining itself with mine and forcing it into submission. He pushes me with his body back into a wall, and the moment I can no longer be pushed back any further, he reaches down for both my thighs and brings them up around his waist. I can feel him, hard and ready through his pants, and despite my resolve to make a clean break this afternoon, I feel wet heat begin to pool between my legs.

Once I'm wrapped entirely around him, he moves his lips from mine and begins leaving a trail of kisses down my jawline to my neck. I can feel him nibbling at me, suckling me, as his hands search for my nipples beneath my shirt. When his lips make contact with the stiff collar of my button down, he moves his fingers up, grips each side of the collar tightly, and rips it apart, spraying buttons across the floor around us as he buries his mouth into my cleavage. I moan and dig my fingers into his hair, encouraging the suction on the swell of my breast that grows harder and more intense with each pull of his lips. I feel his teeth sink into me and I cry out, bucking my hips against his as I arch off the wall, and creating friction against his erection.

"Playroom," he groans into my breasts, and I'm so lost in the sudden heat between us that I can't find the words to deny him. He sweeps me away from the wall with me still wrapped around him as he make his way to the stairs. I reach for his face and bring my lips to his, surrendering myself to him until I feel him slam me against the playroom door.

"What do you want, Anastasia," he asks, his voice husky and ladened with his need.

"Just don't hit me," I plead softly. His jaw tightens, but he kisses me hard again in the next second and reaches down to open the door.

Once we're inside the womb like room, he takes me straight for the Saint Andrew's Cross. With my shirt still open, and my chest still heaving with harsh, desperate breaths, he secures both of my wrists in the restraints at the top and then leaves me hanging there while he removes my pants and my underwear. After he's gotten me completely naked, my ankles are buckled into the two remaining cuffs at the bottom and then he raises the cross up and spins it around so that I'm upside down, my mouth directly in front of the bulge in his pants.

"Is this what you want?" he asks, unbuckling us belt while I stare at him.

"Yes," I breathe.

"Good. Then suck for me." He pulls himself out of his pants, directs the tip of his cock to my lips, and I open my mouth for him willingly. Once he's wet and slick with my saliva, he begins thrusting in and out of my mouth, deeper each time, until I've taken him down my throat. I take a deep breath through my nose to try and quell the threat from my gag reflex, while leans forward and begins to suck lightly on my clitoris. I let out a cry of pleasure around his cock which makes him groan into my pussy, thus causing me to whimper more. It's a cycle, the more pleasure he gives me, the more I do to give back to him, and it continues until I'm just on the brink of release. The blood rushing to my head seems to intensify the feeling, and I worry that if I come this way, the pleasure will be so overwhelming, that I'll pass out.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he growls, thrusting in and out of my mouth as he flicks his tongue over my clit. "Are you going to come, Anastasia?"

I can't reply with him buried in my throat, so I hum in response, which makes me gag. He lets out a garbled kind of gasp as the muscles of my throat spasm around him and then pulls out of my mouth and spins me so I'm face to face with him again.

"I want you to come on my cock," he says. He thrusts inside of me and I immediately shatter. My orgasm rips through my entire body, pulsing through my arms and legs pulling desperately against the restraints holding them down, until it bubbles through my lips in a loud, guttural scream of ecstasy. His cadence doesn't slow while I come. He pounds into me with hard, sharp thrusts that jolt my body helplessly against the hard wooden cross at my back. I can feel sweat begin to bead on my skin as the heat of my orgasm begins to boil in my nerve endings, and when it all finally comes to an end, he reaches down for my clitoris to ignite the fire once more.

The pleasure he draws out of me while fucking me on that cross is bewildering. It comes in waves so intense I feel several times as if I'm on the brink of insanity, and he makes me come again and again. He has me completely wrapped up in him, and for the first time since I've learned about this lifestyle, I understand it. I'd do anything for him in this moment, be anything for him, but for now he seems content with tying me down and fucking the life out of me.

"Hold me tighter," I beg when I feel the first change in his pace the signals that he's getting close to his own release. His muscles start to tense beneath his skin, making it so that I can see every tantalizing dip and curve in his arms and shoulders. I want to have my hands back, I want to feel how hard they are, but my desires take a backseat when I hear the grunts that begin accompanying his thrusts and then see the look of pleasure on his face as he explodes inside of me.

"Fuck, Ana!" he cries, his voice harsh and gravelly. I moan, imagining him filling me and finding deep, visceral satisfaction in it.

When he finally stills, he leans his head against my chest and pants against my skin until he catches his breath.

"That was incredible," he whispers, kissing the curves in each of my breaths before he looks up at me. "I'll never cease to be amazed by how fucking perfect you are, Anastasia."

"I could say the same for you," I reply. He smiles a sexy, satisfied, half smile and then leans up to kiss me. It's brief though too brief, as his lips only remain pressed into mine for the amount of time it takes him to open the buckles around my wrists and allow my arms to fall down around his shoulders.

"You wanted to talk to me?" he asks softly when his lips break away from mine. I stare back at him, into the deep gray of his eyes, and slowly shake my head.

"It was nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Good," he says. "Because I'm not nearly done with you yet, Miss Steele."


	20. Chapter 20

**Christian POV:**

When I wake in the morning, I'm immediately consumed with Ana. She's sleeping on my chest, washing my body with her warmth and flooding my nostrils with her scent. God, she smells good. It immediately has me hard and hungry for her despite the fact that I fucked her senseless late into the night. Part of me wants to roll her onto her back and pick up where we left off, but I imagine she must be sore. Normally, that wouldn't bother me. In fact, it usually really gets me going when I watch a woman wince with pain while taking my cock, but that's not what I want from her right now. I want to watch her mouth drop open while she pants with pleasure, I want to feel her nails scraping down my back while she comes around my cock. I want to lose myself in her and if I'm going to do that, I'm going to have to wait at least until tonight.

I lean down and kiss her on the crown of her hair, pausing to really breathe in her intoxicating scent before I ease myself out from under her and make my way to the shower.

She's awake when I come out of the bathroom, scrolling through her phone in bed with the blankets concealing her body from me, but when she notices me re-enter the room, her face breaks into a breathtaking smile.

"Good morning," she says, turning towards me, and the rise in her hips beneath my comforter as she moves does not go unnoticed. With the morning sun shining through the window behind her, reflecting in her hair, she looks like an absolute dream, and for the first time in a very long time, possibly ever, I find myself wishing I wasn't about to head into the office.

"You look beautiful this morning." I tell her. "Tempting even."

"Oh, really? Tempting how?" She reaches up and drags her hand down her body, pulling the blanket with her and exposing her breasts to me. I moan and cross the room for the bed without any conscious thought, then crawl over the top her like a hungry predator and take her lips with mine. Her hands begin fumbling with my towel, untucking it, and then moving over my skin until she grasps my quickly growing erection.

"Ana…" I breathe into her mouth. She kisses me again, tugging on my bottom lip with her teeth in a way that only makes me harder.

"Don't go into work today," she pleads.

"I have to."

"Says, who? You're the CEO, you don't have to answer to anyone. Stay home and play hooky with me. I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh really? And how do you propose to do that?"

She gives me a wicked smile and pushes me off of her. I roll back onto the bed, staring at her body as she gets up on her knees, even reach forward to tweak her nipple between my fingers, but she doesn't let me enjoy the sight of her body for long. After leaning down and kissing me, she slides down my body until her mouth reaches my cock. I groan as her lips envelop me and her tongue guides my dick to the back of her throat. She makes the most enticing sounds as she moves and the feel of her hot, wet mouth on me is exactly what I need after this morning of deprivation.

"Turn around," I instruct her. "Straddle my face." She glances up at me from behind her long eyelashes, smiles, and then takes my cock out of her mouth just long enough to do as I've requested. Her weight on top of me and the feel of her skin melting against mine only adds to the intense pleasure coursing through me once she starts sucking me again, but it's not as enticing as the view of her smooth, pink pussy right in front of my face. I can tell by the way her hips wiggle and grind that she's expecting my touch, but I'm enjoying the view a little too much to oblige immediately.

She's so wet that I can smell her musk, and the longer she worships my cock the wetter she becomes. I feel my mouth begin to water as a single drip of her arousal begins to roll down her inner thigh.

"Oh, baby," I groan.

Suddenly, her mouth disappears and she spits on me. Her small, delicate hand begins to work up and and down my shaft, making my muscles tighten and spasm, and when I feel her breath on me, I buck my hips up to her lips, encouraging her to take me in her mouth again.

"So greedy," she chides me. Her voice is husky, filled with need, and while I'm just about to slap her ass as hard as I can to punish her disobedience, my irritation quickly vanishes as her tongue begins circling the head of my cock. I let out a deeply pleased sound and reach up to palm her ass while she flicks her tongue against me in exactly the way I like. It seems for as well as I know her pussy, she's learned my cock, and once her lips wrap around my entire head again and her tongue traces firmly over the slit at the tip of my cock, my balls start to tighten.

"Touch yourself, Ana," I hiss through my teeth, and she immediately reaches down between her legs and runs her fingertips over her swollen clit. The more aggressive she becomes with her fingers between her lips, the more of her glistening pussy she exposes to me and the hungrier I become.

"That's it, baby. Get your hand nice and wet. I want you to jack me off with your pussy all over your hand."

"You could just fuck me, you know," she says, and this time, I don't hold my hand back my castigation. Hard enough that it makes her scream, I slap her ass and then stare longingly at the pink handprint it leaves behind.

"If you're talking, you're not sucking," I chide her.

She doesn't respond, she simply envelops my cock with her mouth again, and I reward her by massaging the sting away from where I hit her. She removes her hand from between her legs and then spreads her arousal over my shaft before taking my cock in her mouth again. She moans as she tastes herself and her approval resonates with the beast inside of me.

"Take more of me, Ana. All of me. I want my cock as far down your throat as it can reach."

She breathes in through her nose and sinks down on me again, further this time, but not as far as is physically possible.

"More, Ana," I encourage her. She tries, but she gags and stops. I reach through her legs, grip the hair on the nape of her neck, and force her head down. She gags again, but I don't release her. In fact, the feel of her throat spasming around me almost makes me come.

"Oh fuck, baby. Yes!"

She whimpers so I release her, but the fact she didn't fight against me as I held her on my cock means she's earned a reward. As I pull my hand back through her legs, I reach up and run my fingers over her pussy. She shivers with pleasure before she starts sucking my cock again. The feel of her moisture coating my fingers satisfies me on a deep, visceral level.

I pinch her inner lips tightly between my fingers until she cries out in pain and then move my fingers inside of her, making her legs shake as I stroke her g-spot. It becomes a pattern. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure… and she actually seems to enjoy the juxtaposition. When I finally lean forward and start sucking her clit, she gasps and the tightness of her mouth around me disappears.

"Don't stop now, baby. I'm close," I tell her, speaking into her pussy so even the movement of my lips against her is pleasurable.

"I-I can't… fuck, your tongue is so good."

"You don't come until I come. Suck my cock, baby."

Her body shudders as I unleash the full force of my mouth on her and use my fingers to invigorate that place inside of her that I know will cause her to unravel. She mewls loudly before taking my cock back into her mouth and taking me again all the way to her limit. Her insides begin to tremble and the more intense the quivering becomes, the deeper she takes me into her mouth. When her orgasm hits and she floods my mouth with her release, my balls begin to tighten, the muscles in my lower abdomen pull and flex, and with a loud grunt I come deep in her throat.

"Fuck," she pants as she rolls off of me. Her chest heaves as she comes down, trying to catch her breath, and once she does, she props herself up on her elbow and gives me a well satisfied look.

"So, was that enough to convince you?"

I smile, reach for her arm, and pull her towards me. Once she's nestled into my side, I tilt her chin up so I can kiss her once more.

"I suppose I could take a day," I tell her. "Besides, I haven't even fucked you yet."

Once we're out of bed, she makes me breakfast and I'm fascinated as I watch her move with ease throughout the kitchen, chatting happily while she whips pancake batter in a large bowl. Normally, I can't stand listening to people talk about themselves, or any kind of useless small talk, but while she tells me about a book she recently finish and how much she enjoyed it, I find myself enraptured with her. She looks almost jubilant as she brings a plate for each of us to the breakfast table, and seeing her smiling, beaming even, makes me… _happy_.

"I think you'd really like it," she says. "I thought it was sharp."

"I think you're right. You'll have to let me borrow it sometime."

"Okay, _billionaire_ ," she giggles. "You can buy your own books."

"Yeah, but I'd like to have something of yours. In fact, I'd like to have a lot of things of yours."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," I confirm, and to my surprise, I mean it. The idea of having something of hers to have here all the time pleases me, like part of her would be here. I've never felt the need for constant companionship. In fact even Taylor living here, though he lives in separate quarters, is more often an annoyance than reassuring, and he's the head of my security team. My submissives I'd only allowed in my apartment from 5 PM on Friday to 3 PM on Sunday, and when they weren't being used as sex objects in my playroom, I'd demanded that they not be seen _or_ heard.

But Ana… I don't think it would be so bad to wake up to her every morning, the way I did today. We could shower together and have breakfast before I went to work, just like this. What if she was here when I got home from work?

An image comes to mind of her dancing around my kitchen, just the way she was this morning, making me dinner, waiting with a glass of wine, asking me about my day. And at the end of every night, I could make love to her.

 _Fuck_ her _._

I shake my head, to dispel the word. _Fuck_ her. I could _fuck_ her.

"You okay over there?" she asks, drawing my attention. I look up at her, an air of curiosity on her face, and nod.

"Yeah, I'm just… thinking about work."

"Well, stop it. Today there is no-"

"Move in with me," I interrupt her, and her face goes blank.

"W-what?"

"I want you here, Ana. I want to wake up with you every morning, and I want to go to bed with you every night. I want you to move in with me."

"Christian I… I can't just move in with you. I have a roommate, and a lease…"

"I'll pay it off. I'll pay for your apartment until your lease expires or Kate finds a new roommate."

"Um…" she looks down at the mostly empty plate in front of her, her eyes darting from side to side. "I-I, I don't think I can just… I mean, there's a lot that I need to…"

"Ana," I say, cutting off her babbling and focusing her attention on me. "I will take care of the details and I will make it very easy for you. I want you to move in with me. Yes or no?"

She takes a breath. "Can I think about it for a few days?"

My jaw tightens as the Dom in me reacts to her unwillingness to immediately give me whatever I want, but I stifle my irritation so I don't start making demands and instead give her a curt nod. Still, I'm not used to waiting and leaving the control of the situation in her hands has definitely soured by previously good mood. She sees this and when I pick up my blackberry to check the email notification I just received, she gets out of her chair, walks around the table, and crawls into my lap. I glance up into her clear, blue eyes just as she leans down to kiss me, and the moment her lips make contact with mine, my irritation disappears.

"Do you want to go out on _The Grace_ today?" she asks. "We haven't been in months and I know how much you like sailing."

"Mmm, it might be a little cold."

She smiles. "Don't worry, I'll keep you warm."

A little more than an hour later, my crew and I begin navigating _The Grace_ out of the marina and into open waters. The air is wet and biting, but the sea breeze is fresh and calming as it blows through my hair. Ana was right, it has been too long since I've been out here. I turn to look at her, wrapping a rope tightly around the bollard to secure the cunningham I've just tightened. She seems to remember quite a bit of what I taught her the last time I brought her out here, and that pleases me, which is not the first time I've had that thought today.

As we move about the deck and work in tandem with the crew to sail deep into the sound, I find myself spending more time focusing on her than on whichever task is at hand. My fascination with her is almost as intriguing to me as the feeling itself, and when I have her at the helm and allow her to take hold of the wheel and steer us through the inky water below, I try to decipher what exactly it is about her that seems to hold my attention so absolutely.

She isn't anything like any of the women I've had in my life before her. She's terrible at being submissive, I don't even think she realizes how sarcastic or defiant she's being half the time. But a part of me likes that, I think. She's challenging. I don't know what she's going to do or say, ever, and while that attitude would normally piss me off, with her, it's refreshing. She makes me laugh, she holds my attention when she speaks, and even after having her, and only her, for months, I'm still as enraptured by her beauty and her body as I was the first time I'd seen her.

The red room is an issue though. She let me take her there last night, but there'd been restrictions.

 _Don't hit me._

For a sadist, that's like cutting me off at the legs. Sex is absolutely the most important aspect of any relationship I have with a woman, and if I can't have her, the way I need to have her, how long will she hold my interest? Can she be trained? Will she ever learn to accept my brutality or my punishments? To enjoy them? To crave them? To need them even? I don't know the answer to that, but I do know that I need her to satisfy my sadistic needs.

Suddenly, she squeals in my arms as we're hit with a strong gust of cold wind and then looks up at me, pink cheeked and looking so happy that it creates a physical reaction in me. My body heats, my blood begins to tingle, and I smile before reaching down to kiss her lips. She moans into my mouth and as my body responds, aches to touch her, to have more of her, I know instantly that I'm going to have to find a way to make her what I need.

Then it hits me. _New Years_.

Ana has a vindictive streak in her, something not as pronounced as mine but still present, that can find joy in the pain of others. My mind begins to play through the events of that evening, her willingness to plot, her excitement over our success and the pain reflected in both Kate and Addison's eyes as their friendship was severed… The sex that night between us had never been hotter, more satisfying, and I'd never found her more desirable.

Perhaps that's the key. I don't need to hurt _her_. She and I can hurt others... together. As a team. Maybe, eventually, as more...

We spend the entire day together onboard _The Grace_ , and I can't remember another day as perfect as this one. We have lunch together on deck, she reads quietly beside me while I fish, and, after dinner, we hand over control to the rest of the crew, head inside, and watch the sun set through the windows of my cabin.

"It's so beautiful out here," she whispers, taking a sip of her wine and then nestling into my side. "It makes me wish we never had to go back."

"I know. Thank-you for today, Ana. This may have been one of the best days of my life."

"Me too," she nods. I lean down to kiss her, slowly at first, and then more fervent when she opens her lips to accept my tongue. It doesn't take long for the heat between us to intensify, past a point where either of us can ignore it, and as she drops her wineglass to the floor, staining the cream colored carpet beneath the loveseat bright red, I slowly push her back into the cushions and begin exploring her body with my hands.

She tugs at my clothes and I oblige her silent request by first removing my shirt, then hers. The skin on skin contact only further stokes my desire for her, so once I've removed her bra and felt the weight of her breast in my hand, I lift her from the couch and take her to my bed.

Her fingers are clumsy as she removes her jeans, but are sure and steady once I've climbed over the top of her and they slide into my hair. Her legs wrap around my waist and she pulls me down onto her, holding my body against hers and moving the tip of my erection so it brushes against her wet lips.

"Christian," she moans. I hum in approval at the sound of my name on her lips, then deepen our kiss, moving slowly so I can fully appreciate her delicate taste. Her hips tilt up towards me, creating real but gentle friction between the head of my cock and her clitoris. As her breath begins to shake, I reach down and increase the pressure but hold myself back from thrusting inside of her.

"Take me, Christian," she pleads. "I want you inside of me."

"Move in with me," I whisper back. She whimpers, and tries to reach down and grab my erection with her hand so she can guide me where she wants me, but, with a small breathy laugh, I simply move out of her reach. She whines.

I smile again and then move down her body so that I can take the nipple on her breast into my mouth. My free hand kneads her other breast firmly until my fingers capture her nipple and tug harshly.

"Ah!" she hisses, but her hips reach up in search of my cock again.

"Move in with me, Ana," I cajole her again.

"Christian, please!" Her body begins to writhe beneath me as she's wound tighter and tighter, but no matter how I torture her, she refuses to give me what I want. Her answer. And surprisingly, her defiance doesn't anger me. It makes me rock fucking hard.

"Is this what you want?" I ask, brushing my erection against her again, and finding her wetter than before.

"Yes. Please."

I lean down and kiss her again, entwining my tongue with hers possessively, and then slowly ease inside of her. Her thighs tremble around my hips as I invade her, stretch her, and when I'm completely buried inside of her, bumping easily against her cervix, I hold and she lets out a long drawn out moan.

"More," she begs.

"Move in with me," I say again.

"Christian!" Suddenly, her hands push against my chest and she manages to move me just enough so that she's able to get out from under me. As her heat disappears from around my cock, I roll back, looking at her with a mix of shock and bewilderment, but before I can say anything, she's straddling my hips and sinking down onto my cock.

"Jesus, Ana…" I groan, tensing slightly as she begins to ride me. I should be furious with her. This should earn her a punishment so severe, she wouldn't be able to sit for several days and her throat would be raw from the solid fucking I'd give her… but I'm not angry. I'm fascinated. Her breasts bounce tantalizingly as she moves, her moans echo in my ears and resonate in my cock, and her wet heat around me is so euphoric it erases everything around me. I'm no longer in my cabin on the Grace, in the middle of the sound, in Seattle, on planet earth… There is nothing. Only her. Only me. Only this.

I sit up so my mouth is even with her breasts and wrap an arm around her waist, holding her steady as she continues to bounce on my cock. Her head falls back, jettisoning her breasts out towards me, while her long, chestnut hair brushes against my thighs. I lavish her nipples eagerly and use my hand to toy with her clitoris. Soon, I feel her begin to tighten.

"Are you close, baby?" I ask.

"Yes," she breathes.

"Look at me."

She looks down and as I stare deeply into her eyes, her breathing becomes more fractured and her lips begin to tremble. I hold her gaze, refusing to allow her to look away from me, and as her body seizes and her walls begin to grip my cock like a velvet vice, she screams my name. It's my undoing. I come inside of her so violently, I'm incoherent, driven only by baser instinct to continue thrusting up inside of her.

"I love you," I tell her as the last rope of come flies out of my cock, and while she looks down at me with wide, disbelieving eyes, I find myself just as taken aback as she is. Not because I said, but because… I mean it. It wasn't just an accident said in the heat of the moment and there is no wave of regret washing through me now that it's come out. I said it, because losing myself in her allowed me to say it, and now that I have, all I want is to say it again.

 _I love her._

"W-what?" she asks, looking as though she doesn't know what to do. I stare up at her and feel my Adam's apple shift as I swallow and prepare myself to make my first, real declaration.

"I love you, Anastasia."

Her mouth drops open again and her breathing becomes heavier, but she doesn't say anything. She simply stares at me. A new emotion that I haven't felt since I was a child, not since I was huddled beneath the dining room table listening to the sound of heavy boots thudding over the hardwood floor of the living room in search of me, fills my gut. I can feel my lips moving, trying to form words, but nothing comes out. For the first time in my adult life, I don't know what to do. I'm vulnerable to this tiny, blue eyed girl who still has my cock buried inside of her.

"A-Ana…" I stutter, but she lifts her fingers to cover my lips. Her eyes stay locked on mine as she hesitates for another long, torturous minute, but eventually, her lips pull back together in a thin line and the shock in her eyes turns to something else. Something more hopeful, I think.

"I love you, too, Christian," she whispers at last. Instantly, the cold grip of uncertainty that has hold of my entire body vanishes and is replaced by warm, glorious joy. She lets out a shaky breath through a wide, breathtaking smile and as I mirror her, I reach into her hair, pull her lips down to mine, and pour as much passion into her as I can physically manifest. Her arms wrap around me while I kiss her, and I take advantage of her grip to flip her around again so that I'm on top of her, consuming her body with mine the same way I consume her with my mouth.

When I finally pull away, she lets out a small, breathy laugh and a tear leaks from the corner of her eye, down into the chaotic mess of her hair over my pillow.

"I love you," I tell her again.

"And I love you. I'm yours, Christian. Body, Mind, and Soul."

"Mine," I repeat, and then slowly lean down to take her lips once more.


	21. Chapter 21

**Ana POV:**

I'm in agony the next morning and, surprisingly, it's not because of anything Christian has done to me. Well, not physically at least. He told me he loved me. When he first said it, I didn't take him seriously. I thought it was probably something callously thrown out in the heat of his orgasm, but he didn't immediately take it back. He didn't take me home and refuse to answer my calls for days until I got the hint that his words had been a mistake. In fact, he spent most of the remainder of the evening trying to convince me to move in with him. This morning, when he'd left for work, he whispered those three words against my lips again as he'd kissed me goodbye.

He loves me.

Christian Grey loves me.

And I'm in love with him…

I've done everything I could to prevent myself from realizing it, distracted myself, lied to myself, even tried to talk myself out of it, but I can't any more. There's no more denying it. I'm in love with him and I have been from quite some time.

It's wonderful, really. Sadio masochism and sex torture chambers aside, Christian is exactly the kind of man every girl dreams of spending her life with. He's handsome, rich, thoughtful, protective, loving... and he can fuck me like no one ever has. All morning I've been fantasizing about the life we'll have together. Weekends on his yacht, holidays with his extraordinarily loving family in their beautiful home. Perhaps there could be a beautiful seaside wedding, and maybe, someday, tiny little copper haired children. The longer I allow myself to daydream, the clearer the picture of what I want from Christian comes into view. A life, together, full of happiness, and laughter, and love. He has the ability to make all of my dreams come true, and I have the willingness and devotion to love him absolutely for the rest of my life. It's like I've hit the fairy tale, happily ever after lottery, except that being with Christian for real, sharing my life with him, has real consequences.

First, I spent _months_ of our relationship sleeping with his brother. It was only ever just sex between the two of us, but that's not going to make Christian feel any better… No, he can never find out. Thankfully, I know Elliot won't tell him. He's said to me before that he has too much to lose for him to spill the beans. It's one of the reasons I've been so comfortable with him. But just because Elliot won't tell Christian, doesn't mean he won't tell anyone, and I've seen first hand how fast gossip can fly through Christian's social circle. I need to talk to him, soon, but I need to do it when Kate isn't around and his sudden attitude change about her, constantly spending time with her and hanging around our apartment 24 hours a day, isn't very conducive to that.

Second, and most important… Leila. She's my best friend in the entire world. More than that, she's my family. I'll never forget the things she's done for me. There was a night when I was sixteen and and I came home from school to find my house was empty. There wasn't even a note from my mother giving any indication where she'd gone or when she'd be back… Leila came and picked me up, took me back to her house, and let me live there until I graduated from high school and went off to college with her. She never held that over me. She was there the very first time I got too drunk and she held my hair for me while I spent the whole night puking. She'd talked me through my first break up, she's held me countless time when I've had breakdowns over my fucked up family life, and she's stood beside me through everything I've ever had to celebrate. And in a way, I owe almost every one of those occasions to her.

She's my person.

These past few months, I've done things I never knew I was capable of doing. Unlocked a side of me that I'm not proud of, all for her. All of this was for her, to get revenge for the things that Christian did to her. I remember that night she came to my house after he'd had her in the red room with perfect clarity. I remember the angry pink welts and bruises that covered her body, I remember the broken person she'd become in the weeks that followed, and I remember the way she looked in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life because he'd devastated her to the point where she didn't think she could live anymore. I saw her in that hospital ward, heard her frail, shaking voice as she gripped the handful of pills she was ready to swallow.

I haven't forgotten what he did to her, but now I'm having a hard time reconciling the monster Leila made me believe he was with the man I've grown to love. He's never brutal towards me. He can be rough, of course, but he always stops if I think it's too much. He's generous and loving. I trust that he would never hurt me and so maybe _I_ can believe he isn't really the man who had been so cruel to my best friend.

But she won't.

I have no idea what she's going to do when she finds out about us, and part of me thinks she'll be right if she's pissed. This is wrong, I know it's wrong and I feel absolutely terrible about the way everything has happened, but she has to know. This isn't like hiding my infidelities with Elliot from Christian. I can't keep my relationship a secret from Leila. To do that, I'd have to cut her out of my life and that's absolutely out of the question. Leila is a part of me that I can't live without. I just need to think of a way to tell her that won't make her hate me forever.

I groan as I finally get out of bed and begin pacing the floor, rehearsing a hundred different versions of what I'm going to say. Everyone of them comes out wrong. I thought at first, it might be a good idea just to invite her here. That maybe if she could see the way Christian is now, she would understand. But I don't think throwing them together without any real kind of preparation is a good idea. Besides, I don't even know if Christian would be okay with that. We've never talked about Leila, not really. I don't know what his feelings towards her are. Maybe it's going to be just as difficult to get him to accept her as it will the other way around.

I shake my head and start pacing again. No, it's not a good idea to bring her here, but I can't exactly tell her over the phone… Maybe I could go home for a few days, have another girls night like we did the night all of this started in the first place. She might be easier to persuade with a little alcohol in her and Kate likes Christian. Maybe she could help with the convincing part… attest to how good he's been to me. Will Leila care about that? I don't know, and the more I think through this plan, the more it feels like an ambush. I can't just gang up on her and force her to accept my relationship. I need to give her the opportunity to be honest with me about how this makes her feel. Nothing is going to change my mind or the way I feel about Christian, but I have to let her say her peace if that's what she wants. I owe her that and it's the only way we'll ever be able to move on from here.

I have to swallow my fear and face my best friend, alone. But working up the courage to pick up the phone and call her is another momentous task all on it's own. I spend most of the morning aimlessly meandering through Christian's enormous apartment, avoiding his housekeeper as much as possible while I try and convince myself that it's all going to turn out okay. I replay the first day she'd returned home in my mind again, how she'd willingly destroyed everything of Christian's she had, and never batted an eye about it. She's completely over him, I've seen that, so maybe… maybe it will be okay. Maybe when I explain _how_ this happened, she'll understand and we'll move on and we can all laugh about this someday.

 _Maybe._

With a deep breath, I finally reach for my phone, find Leila's name in my contacts list, and press my finger into the screen to make the call. It rings several times, enough that I think she might not answer, but just before I get her voicemail, she does.

"Hello?" Her voice is thick and rough, like I've just woken her up. I immediately glance over at the clock on the wall and find that it's nearly 10:30. Why is she still asleep? I thought I was going to catch her at work…

"Hey, Lee. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, but that's okay," she yawns.

"Rough night?"

"Mmm. I had the worst date of my life last night."

"Uh oh, tell me all about it."

"Well… first of all, he showed up in an Ed Hardy t-shirt. Like, I get that we were in a dive bar so I didn't expect him to wear a three piece suit, but it's our first date. Pull back a little, dude. You don't have to shower me with your douchedom the very first time I meet you."

I laugh. "Did he have an eyebrow piercing?"

"Worse. A tribal tattoo."

"Oooh. I'm so sorry, babe."

"Oh yeah, and it gets worse. He ordered a bunch of drinks, like way too many drinks, and started bragging about how much he can drink and how alcohol never really affects him… turns out, homeboy is a liar and got way too drunk, way too fast. So I'm sitting there, watching him sway back and forth on his bar stool while he goes on and on about his lifting routine. Seriously, I shit you not, Ana, it was like I was on a date with one of the guys from Jersey Shore."

"So I assume the next part of this story is where you tell me that you've already set a wedding date and you want to ask me to be your maid of honor? You don't need to ask, babe. You know I'm always there for you."

"Yeah, I can see where you got that from, but unfortunately, before we could start picking out the names of our future children, some guy behind me accidently spilt some of his drink on me and while yeah, dick move, this neanderthal I'm with jumps out of his seat and, honest to God, tries to get into a fight with him."

"No!"

"Oh, yeah. We got thrown out of the bar, Anastasia. ON TO THE STREET!"

"Oh my god. What did you do?"

"I went back to his place and fucked him."

"Leila!"

"What? That's what those kind of boys are for. It's okay, it's not like I was expecting to find the love of my life on Tinder. I'm just never going to call him again. Well, unless I'm just looking for an easy lay, because that part was alright. No more drinking though, God I'm so hung over."

"So, I assume that's why you're not at work today?"

"I told my boss I was up all night puking… if he thinks it's the flu, there's nothing I can do about that."

"You're ridiculous, Leila." I laugh again.

"But you loooooove me!"

"Yes, I do."

"So, what's up girly? Are we _finally_ going to hang out?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I've just been busy."

"Mhmm…"

"But I was hoping you and I could go to dinner soon. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Uh oh, what happened?"

"Nothing _happened_."

"Is it Ray again? Because I swear to God, Ana, I will drive to Montesano right now and kick his ass. You are not his daughter, you do not have to put up with the way he treats you. He's just a miserable man who can't find any other joy in life than making you hate your life and that's bullshit."

"It's not Ray, it's not my mother, it's nothing. It's actually… good."

"Why do you say it like that then?"

"Leila, will you just go to fucking dinner with me, please?'

She sighs. "I've got family stuff later this week, but I'm free tonight. Is that okay?"

"Tonight? Uh… yeah, sure. Tonight's great."

"Do you want to do Ivars, down by the pier? Say… seven?"

"Sounds great, I'll meet you there."

"Okay, l'll see you then. Love you, Annie."

"Love you too. Bye, Lee."

I hang up the phone and glance hesitantly over at the clock. Usually, Christian doesn't like it when I disturb him at work, but that was before I love you… Biting down on my lip, I scroll from Leila's name in my address book to his, and then wait nervously until he answers.

"Hey, baby. Is something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to call and let you know that I'm not going to be here tonight. I'm having dinner with a friend."

"Okay. I've got a lot to catch up on from yesterday so I'll be working late anyway. Are you staying with me tonight?'

"I don't think so. I was thinking I would go to my apartment and pack some things to bring to your place. Just the stuff to hold me over until we can move everything."

"Wait, you're… you're moving in?"

"Yeah, of course I am. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Well, that's the best news I've heard all day. Don't stay away too long, okay?"

"I won't."

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too. Bye."

Again, I hang up and let out a long breath, but this time, I don't give myself time to worry over what comes next. I simply get up and march back for the bedroom to plan what I'm going to wear tonight.

When I get to Ivars at 7, Leila is already there waiting for me. She's managed to get our favorite table, the one by the window with an excellent view overlooking Elliot bay and when she sees me come through the doors, she jumps to her feet and beams at me.

"Hey, sis!" she says, giving me a wide toothy grin as she holds her arms open for me. The moment she's engulfed me in a hug, she squeezes me so tightly that it makes her groan. "Ugh, I've missed you. I know, I know, I just saw you last week, but… being away from you all those months was torture. I feel like I don't even know anything about your life anymore."

"Well, let's catch up." I motion for her to take her seat again and then move around the table to sit across from her. The waiter is on us immediately, which is fine because we both get the same thing every time we come here, so once we've ordered our bowl of clam chowder, we're free to sit and talk without interruption.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring Kate," she says. "Are you two fighting? Is she mad at me?"

"Why would she be mad at you?"

"I don't know, it's Kate. She can never be friends with everyone at the same time, she's always got to be at war with someone. I figured it was probably just my turn."

"No, I don't think she's mad at you. I just wasn't at home so I haven't seen her. She's been pretty preoccupied with Elliot lately."

"Which explains why you weren't home." She laughs and I smile back at her. The waiter returns and places a Diet Coke in front of each of us, and as she takes a long pull from her straw her eyes widen. "Oh my god, I heard the other day that Sasquatch is already almost sold out. We've got to get tickets ASAP. Twenty One Pilots is headlining."

"Oh, yeah. That sounds great. We should get a hotel room this year though…"

"No! That's the best part of The Gorge, being out in the mud and the elements. It's like Woodstock, but with fewer hippies."

"Yeah, it's also like getting kicked out of the tent when _you_ find someone who _knows the band_."

"Hey, that guy said he could introduce us to LCD Soundsystem!"

"And did he?"

"No, he was liar. BUT I did steal his bag of weed and was able to use it to get past security for The Hotelier. I still have Zack Shaw's phone number. I think that equals success."

I laugh. "Oh my God, Leila. You are my favorite person. I don't know what I would do without you."

She smiles and lifts her glass to mine. "Here's to never finding out."

Once we have our food, I listen intently to her exploits back in the dating world. She's definitely back to her old self, once again adopting her one and done attitude. It feels normal to hear her talking about her craziest Tinder exploits, but it makes me a little bit sad too. Now, that I've found real love and I get to experience first hand how it feels, I also want that for her.

"But… don't you want a boyfriend eventually?" I ask. "Someone to snuggle up with and watch reruns of The Office?"

"That's what I have you for," she argues.

"Yeah, but don't you want someone to _love_ and who loves you back?"

"Again… you're just describing yourself."

"Leila."

She sighs. "I tried love, Ana, and it broke me. It almost killed me. I'm never going to go through anything like that ever again. I'm done. I'll grow up to be an old spinster with a big purple hat and a ton of cats. You and I can play bingo on Thursdays, it's going to be great."

I take a breath to push down the guilt rising inside of me again and glance down at my bowl of chowder. My refusal to look her in the eyes peaks her interest and she raises an eyebrow at me.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Are you seeing anyone?"

 _Oh boy, here we go._ "Yes. I'm seeing someone."

"Is it serious?"

I nod. "He told me that he loves me last night. I'm… I'm moving in with him."

"What!" Her voice is so loud that even she gives a bashful look of apology to the people sitting closest to us before she rounds on me again. "I can't believe you let me go on and on about thumb dick when you're in love with someone."

"Yeah, well..."

"Tell me everything," she says, sitting upright and focusing intently on me. "Start from the beginning, I want every detail."

I swallow again, trying to push down the dread rising inside of me, then steel myself for whatever reaction I'm about to get from her.

"I just want you to know… what happened to you, I took that really hard. Not that it was anywhere near as hard for me as it was for you, I'm not saying that, I just want you to know that while you were… _away_ , I wasn't back here frolicking through the flowers with my boyfriend. I was devastated. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Ana, I'm not mad at you for getting a boyfriend," she says, reaching across the table and placing her hand over mine. "Just because I had to go through some things for myself doesn't mean that I expected your life to stop. I'm happy for you."

I shake my head. "It's not what you think it is though. That night when you came to me, after he'd done what he did to you, I was angry. I couldn't believe you were just going to let him get away with what he did. Then you took those pills and I thought for a minute that I was going to lose you… I couldn't just let it go. I wanted revenge for you. So I came up with a plan."

"What plan?" she asks suspiciously, slowly drawing her hand away from mine and back across the table.

"I wanted him to feel the way that he made you feel. I wanted him to be as broken as you were. So, I decided I was going to make that happen. I'd spent the evening with him in that bar we went to with Kate, remember? He got my number from Elliot and he called me the next morning. He asked me out, and I said yes."

"What? Ana, are you… are you subbing for him?"

"No! No, of course not. I just…" I throw my head back and take another deep breath, searching for strength. "I planned to make him fall in love with me, the way you fell in love with him, and when he did, I was going to drop him. I was going to tell him that he never meant anything to me, that he was the scum of the earth, and that he disgusted me. I did a lot of things to make our inevitable break-up terrible for him, bad things, Leila. It was always about revenge, about waiting for him to tell me that he loved me so that I could pull the trigger and destroy him. I never expected that while I was trying to make him fall for me, that I'd fall for him too."

"What?" she asks, as though she hasn't heard me, and I feel a dry ache in my throat as the threat of tears begins to sting my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Leila."

"Th-this is a joke, right?" She's stuttering now. "This isn't really happening, this is just a bad joke."

"I wish it was. I wish none of this had happened, but it has and I can't change it now. I don't want to anymore. I'm in love with him, Leila."

She stares at me in disbelief for a long time, but when the resolve in my eyes doesn't falter, she looks away and begins shaking her head.

"I'm going to be sick."

"Leila…" I reach across the table to touch her, but she jerks her arm out of the way.

"Don't touch me!" she snaps. I recoil and she looks at me, mouth agape in shock and eyes burning with angry incredulity. "That Audi… the one you took me shopping in last week, that's his, isn't it? He gave it to you."

I nod.

"I knew it. I knew it the second I saw that car. It's the exact one he gave me, down to the fucking color. How could you fall for his bullshit? You're supposed to be smarter than me! He's a _monster_ , Ana."

"No, he's different. Changed…"

"He hasn't changed, are you fucking kidding me? Jesus, you really don't know… This is how he gets into your head, Ana. You think I fell in love with him because he put me over a whipping bench? No, I fell in love with him because he knows exactly what to say to make you feel important to him, cared for, protected. He knows how to make you feel like there's nothing in the world he wouldn't do for you so that later, when he takes you into the playroom, there's _nothing_ you won't do for him. He's a sadist, Ana. A fucking psychopath."

"No, that's not how it is with us."

"Oh really? You think he's so different? He's really changed? Tell me, Ana, do you remember that day you came to visit me in the psych ward and I tried to overdose again?"

"Of course I remember."

"Where do you think I got the pills?"

My brow furrows. "W-what?"

"He sent me a bouquet of flowers, they were on my desk. The one in the center was fake and when I pulled it out, I found the stem was filled with pills. The card he sent with it said, _Never Give Up_. He wanted me to kill myself, Ana. Does that say changed man to you?"

"No." I shake my head in disbelief. "No, he wouldn't do that."

"You think so, huh? Did you know that he came to visit me while I was still in the hospital? Less than 24 hours after I tried to kill myself, he came to my bedside to harass me about the NDA that I signed. To make sure I didn't tell _you_ anything. When he left, he told me that he wouldn't have cared if I died the night before. He was the reason I tried to kill myself, and he didn't care."

"I'm not denying that he was terrible to you, Leila. I feel awful about that and I'm sorry. But I didn't choose this. I never meant for this to happen, I just… I can't stop it now. I'm in love with him, and he's in love with me."

"He doesn't love you!" she exclaims. "We all think he does, but he doesn't. He doesn't feel anything, Anastasia. He doesn't love you. The same as he never loved me."

Anger flares in the pit of my stomach. "Did he ever say the words to you?"

"What?"

"You said you thought he loved you but did he ever actually say it?"

"Well, no, but…"

"No," I interrupt her. "He didn't. But he said it to me. He doesn't just have me over on the weekends to fuck at his whim in his red room of pain, he asked me to move in with him. I sleep in his bed at night, we spend free time together on his yacht, I spent Christmas with his family this year, and he had me on his arm, proudly displayed for the whole city, at the Seattle Yacht Club New Years Eve Ball. He's in love with me, and I'm sorry if it hurts you to hear that, but it's true. You were his submissive, Leila. I'm much more than that."

"You're right." She gets up from her chair and throws her napkin angrily down on the table. "You're not a submissive, Ana. You're just a stupid whore who would throw her best friend away for some good dick."

"Leila… please."

"You know, when I got out of that hospital, I decided I was going to cut everyone out of my life who was toxic. I actually went home and I wrote down the names of every one of my friends and started crossing them off the list one by one. When I was finished, your name was the only one left. You. The girl I grew up with, the girl I shared everything with, the girl who I trusted more than anyone else in the world. But that trust was misguided. You're just as selfish and cruel as everyone else in this world and now that I know that, I want nothing to do with you. Don't call me ever again. Stay away from my family. We're done."

Tears finally begin to break over my waterline and roll slowly down my cheeks. "I really didn't mean for this to happen, Leila. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Yeah, well you did."

"I'm sorry. Please, just give me another chance. We can work this out, we're sisters."

"We're nothing. Enjoy your fucking boyfriend, Anastasia. I really hope he doesn't beat the shit out of you, but when he does, don't come to me." She turns around to leave and I sit there, starting after her, unable to move or chase her down. Her words have left me paralyzed and as the reality of what just happened settles over me, I feel as though I'm stranded in the middle of the ocean without a life preserver. I'm utterly and completely lost and the only person I've ever been able to turn to just walked out of my life. Forever.


	22. Chapter 22

Ana:

I don't even remember the drive home. I was running on autopilot the whole way, just trying to make it home in one piece, but the moment I walk through the apartment door, I feel the overwhelming weight of the situation barrelling down upon me. My chest feels equal parts cavernous and overflowing, the emotions rolling over me in waves of anger and crushing loss. Losing Leila and the life that goes with her, her family, the familiarity, the security, the love- it takes my breath away how much it hurts.

And it must be all over my face, because when I look up and see Kate, her face morphs into a look that tells me I must be reflecting exactly how I'm feeling.

She's standing behind the kitchen island, gently tossing a salad in a clear glass bowl. When she looks up at me, she does a double take, setting the utensils in the bowl and licking a little bit of dressing off the tip of her finger before she speaks. "Ana? What's wrong?"

I rub my hands over my eyes. I really was hoping to not see Kate tonight. I can't tell her the truth about any of this, and now, when I'm already emotionally drained, I have to come up with a convincing lie on the spot to explain to her why Leila's and my 'unbreakable' friendship is done for good.

I have to swallow past the huge, aching lump in my throat to even attempt to speak. "Leila and I had a huge fight."

"About what?" she asks, and I can already hear her voice edged with the excitement of hearing juicy gossip, rather than a friend's concern.

"Christian," I say, using at least that kernel of truth in my explanation. "She doesn't approve of me dating him."

Her face screws up in confusion. "Why? What part doesn't she _approve_ of?"

I throw myself down on the couch, resting my head back so I can look at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with her while I lie. As someone who has known me for years, as well as a journalist, she's quite skilled at sniffing out truth from lies.

"Not him, per se. But just, me being in a relationship. Or, how I handled it I guess. I don't know. I met with her and… she said she was upset I hadn't been around for her more. I told her I was seeing someone, and she got mad about that, saying it was fucked up that I hadn't supported her the way she needed while she was getting better. She said I was a shitty friend for putting some dick before her. I tried to tell her I was in love with him, but she didn't care. She told me she only has time for people in her life that are truly there for her, and since I've proven that I can't be that when she needed me most, that she didn't want to be friends anymore."

Kate rolls her eyes, picking back up the salad utensils and proceeds to continue mixing. "She's probably been getting a lot of you-need-to-love-yourself-and-put-yourself-first psycho babble bullshit in therapy. There was a girl in my high school who tried to kill herself because of 'bullying' by...some of the popular girls, and she went through the same thing. Would say annoying shit like "I am worth your respect" and "I love myself and that's all that matters" all the time after she came back to school. She was even more pathetic than before." I watch Kate talk about this girl with amusement, but when she catches my eye, her face rearranges into what I think she thinks looks like a sympathetic smile. "Anyway, I'm sure Leila will come around."

She won't. But I decide it's best to drop the topic with Kate, because the more we talk about it, the more I have to lie, and I'm too exhausted to have to keep any more lies straight in my life right now. So I just give her a noncommittal shrug. I figure the best way to move on is to change the subject to Kate's favorite topic- Kate.

"What's up with you? Anything new?"

She huffs, dropping the utensils again. "I think Elliot is cheating on me again," she says point blank.

"Seriously?"

Kate nods, "Yep. I found a pair of panties in his house, and they were definitely not mine. Some cheapass slut's bargain 5 for $28 pair from Victoria's Secret." It takes everything in me to not roll my eyes, seeing as Kate just essentially insulted me, calling me cheap, since she damn well knows I shop that exact VS sale religiously. Of course she is also insulting me directly, since that pair of panties actually **is** mine. But she doesn't know _that_.

"Plus, and even worse," Kate continues, abandoning her salad as she reaches for a bottle of tequila from the cabinet above the island, pulling down two shot glasses and coming to sit next to me on the couch. "We're barely even having sex anymore. There is no way Elliot Grey is just not having sex. So if he's not doing it with me, it means he's been doing it with someone else. And it's not just that. He's been distant. I'm worried. It's not like all the other times before where he posted pictures on Insta, or had clearly been active on Tinder. He made a point to hide it this time, and the way he's acting like a whipped little dog, I think he might have actually caught feelings for this one and... maybe she dumped him? Because he's acting heartbroken. Which I doubt Elliot Grey has ever been before."

"Well, have you thought about cutting him loose for good? He's proven time and time again that he doesn't deserve you Kate," I try to reason with her, eyeing her as she fills the two shot glasses to the rim. I war with myself for a moment about taking the shot I know she's going to push on me. Part of me wants to just go curl up in bed and fall asleep, but another part of me knows I'll never get any sleep, and the alcohol will help numb some of this gut wrenching pain I feel over losing Lee, at least for the night.

Kate sets the bottle down, picking up the two glasses and handing me one before giving me very rare, genuine, and sad smile. "I can't. I'm in love with him. He drives me nuts. He makes me absolutely crazy, Ana, but I love him. He's who I want. And I will do anything to hold on to him." She slams her shot back quickly, and I follow suit, cringing not only from the alcohol, but from her words.

Kate loving Elliot is a disaster. It's dangerous for her, because the fact of the matter is, Elliot doesn't love her. And from the way he talked about her, he never will. I'm not entirely sure Elliot is even remotely interested in finding love any time in the near future. He loves to fuck around. He loves to get his dick wet. _That's_ what Elliot loves. I wish I could warn her, wish I could tell her she needs to move on, that it's never going to happen, that, despite all her flaws, she actually truly deserves better than Elliot Grey. No one deserves to have their heart played with like that, even Kate. My thoughts cut to Christian, whose heart I took it upon myself to play with, and it just reaffirms to me that everyone deserves a chance to love and be loved. At one time I thought he was truly deserving of such cruelty, and I thought Kate deserved me fucking Elliot behind her back. I was wrong. On both accounts. And I will try like hell to set those things right now.

But I have to stop short of actually pushing her to break up with Elliot. I want to tell her that she deserves better, but honestly, I don't have it in me to meddle in another relationship. I got involved in Leila's, and now I've lost my best friend because of it. I can't risk losing Kate too. So I opt to be supportive, and just say something that will hopefully just lighten her mood. "I don't pretend to understand Elliot, but when he's ready to settle down, what better catch can he find than Kate fucking Kavanaugh?"

"Damn straight," she smirks. "I've actually been thinking of suggesting a threesome with Elliot."

"Why?" I ask, completely thrown off by her statement. Kate has never shied away from the kinkier side of sex, and this certainly wouldn't be her first threesome, but the fact that she's suggesting having one with the man she loves, the man she suspects is cheating on her, makes no sense to me.

"I figure he either cheats with me, or he cheats without me. He's obviously craving something I've not been able to give him. Maybe… maybe if I do this, it will prove to him I'm adventurous, prove to him he can have a sexually fulfilling relationship with me, and it will stop him from cheating altogether."

"I don't know, Kate," I start, holding back from flat out telling her that I think her plan makes no sense. But it's like she doesn't hear me anyway, she just keeps talking, unfurling her plan.

"I've always been more possessive of Elliot than any other man I've been with. Most of them I could give a fuck to even know their names before I'm done with them, but I've always wanted to keep him on a tight leash because I wanted him to be permanent. That's got to be the only reason he fights against me so hard, because otherwise I know I'm the full package. I've got the looks, the intelligence, the family name. He's got no other reason to not want to lock me down, except for the fact he must think I'm too controlling. Doing this will prove to him that I can be open-minded."

The more she talks, the more confident she seems to become in her decision. Like she's talking herself into it, changing it from a mere idea into a solid game plan as she speaks. All I can do is sit back and listen.

Her face contorts to a slightly bemused look as she slowly pours another shot. "The girl will be an issue though. Whoever I do this with, she has to be less desirable than me. Not ugly, because that might make him suspicious, but just a clear downgrade from me…" She trails off, lost in her thoughts as she brings her shot glass up to her lips. But suddenly she pauses, the shot glass stopping about an inch in front of her mouth as her eyes quickly flick to mine. She cocks her head slightly to the side, giving me a weird look before handing the glass to me instead.

"Enough about me and Elliot. And you and Leila. Let's get drunk."

She pours herself a shot, and we click them together before downing them. I could use the escape from my sadness toward the Leila situation right now. Sex and alcohol have always served me well as a way to drown my sorrows, usually working hand in hand, but since Christian isn't here, it looks like just alcohol will have to do.

The tequila is mixing with the few spoonfuls of clam chowder I managed to eat before Leila and I started fighting and I lost my appetite. I know drinking on an empty stomach is a terrible idea, but I can't be bothered enough to actually eat right now. I'll regret it in the morning, but right now I welcome the idea of getting completely trashed with Kate.

I don't know how long we've been sitting on this couch drinking. I wanted to give up after a few shots but Kate convinced me to move on to mixed drinks, and I've never been able to say no to a Kate Kavanaugh margarita. It felt like old times with her, reminding me of why I've stuck it out through all of her shit to stay friends even when I felt like she had nothing redeemable left in her anymore.

I can really feel just how badly fucked up I am at the moment as we're giggling on the couch like a couple of teenagers, reminiscing about some of our most memorable college exploits. It's sometimes hard to remember the girl I used to be, the naive kid from Montesano. Enter Katherine Kavanaugh, my roommate freshman year. She introduced me to a whole world I didn't know I was missing, and taught me to let loose and not to live my life in fear of potential regrets. If there's one thing I actually am thankful to Kate for, it's that.

So throughout the course of college, we got into our fair share of crazy situations. But the one we were reminiscing about in particular at the moment was the first time we'd kissed.

"You were SO drunk, Ana," she laughs. "That was the night I learned that if you wanted into Ana Steele's panties, just add alcohol."

"Shut up," I laugh, knowing it's the truth. "It's not my fault. You're honestly really good with your mouth."

"Damn straight," she laughs again. "I will always cherish being your first female kiss," she acts playfully humbled, her voice tinged with mirth. "God, the look on your face when I started taking off your shirt. You were horrified," she giggles. "But once I rolled one of those pretty little pink nipples on my tongue you suddenly didn't care anymore."

I groan and laugh at the memory, throwing my head back and closing my eyes at the memory, only to feel a rush of dizziness at the gesture. I inhale sharply, trying to find my equilibrium, which is easier said than done at the moment. I hold onto the arm rest and tilt my head down, blinking a few time to try and ground myself. After a deep breath, I look up to find Kate is now watching me intently. "I was so jealous you could come just from having your nipples sucked on. Who the fuck can orgasm that easily? I need like, so much foreplay to even have a chance at coming with sex. And here was little Annie Steele, coming like a freight train from a little nipple play."

"It wasn't just the nipple play," I confess. Back then I was still innocent. I wasn't sexually experienced. I had never really had an easy time making and keeping friends, so I was socially awkward. Kate came into my life like this perfect storm that took everything I knew and was and turned it upside down. Looking back, I can admit I probably had a bit of a crush on her in the beginning. She was everything I wanted to be back then- smart, beautiful, self-assured. There was a time I was truly entranced by Kate. "It was you. It was the taboo girl-on-girl thing. Plus, you're _beautiful_ , Kate. It was _you_."

All humor is gone from her eyes now as she stares at me, and then suddenly, without warning, I'm slammed down onto the couch with Kate on top of me, her lips pressing heatedly to mine.

I can barely think straight through the alcohol swimming through my system, and I find myself just giving in to the moment. I open my mouth for her, the familiar feel of her tongue touching mine not seeming foreign at all despite the fact we haven't done this in years.

Her kiss is a little more aggressive than I'm used to from her. Normally when we've made out in the past, it's been a light, fun experience. But this feels more driven. It's then that I feel her fingers climbing my sides, pulling my shirt up above my bra. It both confuses and, admittedly, excites me. Kate long ago lost her luster in my eyes, no longer remotely resembling the epitome of perfection I used to see her as, but I'm fighting a losing battle after that trip down memory lane coupled with all the alcohol in my system.

So when she finds my left nipple with her mouth, I just enjoy the feel of her soft lips and tongue caressing my skin. I feel the weight of her thigh putting just enough pressure between my legs to exacerbate the ache there, and I find myself so lost in the haze of alcohol and pleasure that I feel myself drifting.

I'm snapped back out of it when I feel Kate urging me to sit up so she can pull of my top. She then places both of her hands on my face, holding my mouth to hers. I feel by bra come loose, and I wonder for a brief moment how she managed that when both of her hands are on my face, but quickly disregard the thought when I feel her kiss become more urgent. I think I feel our weight shift on the couch but before I can entertain the idea she has one of her hands between my legs. I'm again reminded of what it was like to be with Kate, of how demanding of attention she is, and force myself to focus on her. Her fingers gently rub against the front of my panties, which is in stark contrast the the rough nipple tweak I receive a moment later.

"Kate," I groan against her mouth at the pain, but she ignores me, slipping a finger under the fabric to gently touch my clit. "God, you're wet," she sighs.

I hear a deep grunt to my right and my eyes open to find the source. My brain seems to slow down as I'm trying to process what I'm seeing.

Elliot.

Elliot is sitting next to us on the couch.

His eyes are hooded with lust as he looks right at me, and I feel a million emotions wash over me simultaneously. I'm angry, embarrassed, confused, upset, and turned on all at once. I've barely had a moment to figure out just what's happening when I feel his rough, calloused fingers take my hand and place it on his lap. It's then I realize his pants are undone and his hard cock is out and on display. His hand holds mine, wrapping my fingers around him and urging it up and down.

Kate slips from my lap, and suddenly her tongue is on me. I close my eyes, trying to focus, but it's hard with her touching me. I can't think. Everything she's doing feels _so good_. I look down at her, watching her between my thighs, until I feel a hand on my chin forcing my head to turn to the right.

My mind is working so slowly that I can barely stay a step ahead of the moment. As Kate slides her fingers deep inside of me, pressing on _that_ spot as she flicks her tongue against my clit, Elliot slides his dick into my mouth. Deep. It's so unexpected and he slides it in so deep and holds it there for so long that I start to panic internally because I can't breathe. I'm so relieved when he pulls back enough for me to take a breath that that's all I do. I just take a deep breath in anticipation that I may not get another. So I'm merely grateful that I did when he immediately slides back in.

And on it goes. Elliot slowly fucks my mouth while Kate eats me out, and I'm so lost in all the movement and sensation that I just allow it to happen.

The night is a big mess of scattered images of me and Kate and Elliot. From on the couch one moment to in my bed seemingly the next. There Kate is splayed out on her back and I'm on my hands and knees between her legs with Elliot pounding mercilessly into me from behind.

That's the last thing I remember before I pass out.


End file.
